The Best Exotic Desert Dove Hotel
by Cap'nHoozits
Summary: Rose decides to visit Ishval for its first harvest festival. She ends up finding more than a few souvenirs. 5th in the Sons of the Desert series. Rated T for mostly mild language.
1. Chapter 1

**If you came here hoping for a RosexScar pairing, I'm sorry, it isn't.**

**********I sort of hinted about doing this a while back, so here it is :/** Not being as familiar with the 2003 anime, I am basing Rose on the manga/Brotherhood version.

******Oh, and I don't own FMA. Well, I own the Brotherhood dvd series and the OVAs, but I paid for those with my own money.**

* * *

**Chapter One**

Like a sapling rising from the dead roots of a once great tree, Liore grew and thrived once more. Having rebuilt it practically from the ground up, healing its wounds and restoring its ravished honor, its citizens justly took pride in their city.

Rose was no exception. Having suffered loss and betrayal, she healed along with the city. When she found the strength to finally support herself on her own two legs and feel comfortable on them, her path before her seemed clear. Her friends and neighbors needed her, if only for a warm smile of encouragement or nourishing food while they all worked together. She didn't think it was much, but not being on the receiving end of it, she didn't realize its great value. Many of her fellow citizens joked that it wasn't mortar that held the bricks of Liore together, it was Rose's stew.

At the end of the day, when everyone else had gone home to their families and some well-deserved rest, Rose would often lie awake, conscious of the small but empty spot deep in her heart, her only company. She would like to think that she had finally come to terms with Patrick's death, but she knew that no amount of community spirit, camaraderie, or hometown loyalty would ever entirely compensate.

The trip to Ed and Winry's wedding had been a welcome change. It was the first time she had travelled away from Liore, and although she had been nervous, it had proved to be an enjoyable adventure. Then she came home, back to her usual routine, and found it somehow lacking. She thought the feeling would wear off after a while, but even after nearly two years went by, she was still plagued by a small but nagging dissatisfaction. She loved Liore, she loved her neighbors and friends, and she even loved her old boss, Wilfred. But she needed a change, and she knew the itch wouldn't go away unless she scratched it.

One fall morning she was flipping through the paper between the morning rush and the lunch rush, nibbling on a buttermilk cruller. She gave the front page news, nothing too earth-shattering, a cursory glance. There were some interesting letters to the editor, some of them intelligent, some of them just nutballs ranting. She smiled when she got to the society page. Above the left-hand column was a photo of the Member of Parliament for Ishval, Mr. Shua, as taken at one of his favorite "haunts." Some of these celebrity shots could be rather unflattering, but Mr. Shua was favoring the camera with a broad, rakish grin. Rose couldn't help but grin back.

She had seen him at Ed and Winry's wedding, and although she didn't actually introduce herself to him or he to her, he seemed to encompass everyone around him as a friend. At one point, she actually bumped into him while looking the other way. He spun around and gripped her shoulders as though afraid she was going to topple over.

"Are you all right, love?" he asked her quickly with sincere concern.

She assured him that she was fine, and he gave her one of those grins. It was a nice moment. She had thereafter kept up with his colorful career whenever it was featured in the newspaper. Below the photo was a brief interview that Shua granted on the fly. The reporter asked him what he was up to lately, which was something he got asked a lot. Often he would simply wink and reply with _Oh, this and that._ This time, however, he mentioned that he and a partner were opening up a bed and breakfast in Ishval this very autumn, just in time for cooler weather. He said it was loaded with exotic charm.

"Exotic charm, huh?" Wilfred said as he read over her shoulder. "Sounds like another word for outdoor plumbing."

"We had that here for a while," Rose reminded him.

"Yeah, and there weren't nothin' charming about it," Wilfred said with a snort.

Rose folded up the paper and continued with her work, but the article stuck stubbornly with her. The itch grew itchier. She read the brief comment about the bed and breakfast again when she went home from work in the late afternoon when the lunch counter closed. She went back downstairs to the lobby of her apartment building where there was a telephone for the tenant's use. She considered it for a moment, then picked it up and dialed the zero.

"Number, please?"

"Well," Rose answered hesitantly, "I'm not sure. I don't actually have a number, but I want to reach a place in Ishval."

"Then I'll connect you with the exchange there. One moment please."

There was a click and then silence. Rose felt her heart speed up a little with excitement. She felt like she was doing something very daring. After another couple of clicks, another voice came on.

"Number, please!" This operator sounded much younger than the last one Rose spoke to, and she also sounded a lot more cheerful. That was a good sign.

"I'm afraid I don't have a number," Rose replied. "I read somewhere that a bed and breakfast hotel was going to be opening there, so…uh…is it open?"

The operator gave a quick laugh. This might not be such a good sign. "Well, they've been trying," the girl said. "But they just got their telephone installed and there _might _actually be someone there to answer it. Would you like me to connect you?"

"Yes, please!"

After another few clicks, Rose heard the sound of a telephone ringing and she felt another surge of excitement. It rang several times. It rang some more. Rose's excitement started to wilt and she considered hanging up. Then, with a bit of a clatter, the ringing stopped and was replaced with the breathless, rushed voice of a young man.

"Hello…I mean…who is…" There were a few muttered words that Rose couldn't make out, then the voice continued with greater confidence and determination. "Thank you for calling the Desert Dove Hotel! How can I help you?"

Rose's excitement came back swinging. "Oh! Yes! I read about this hotel in the newspaper, and I—"

"You did? Really?" The young man sounded surprised.

"Uh…yes. I was reading a piece about Mr. Shua. You know, the Member of Parliament—"

"Oh, I know _Zhaarad _Shua, all right," the young man replied with a chuckle. Then he sighed. "He's not happy with us right now. See, we were _supposed_ to open by the time the harvest festival starts next weekend-"

"Harvest festival?" Rose exclaimed, intrigued.

"Oh, yes!" the young man said enthusiastically. "You see, they used to have them way, way back. Back before the Great Earthquake. So we're bringing it back, since the Halik's been flowing so well and the crops have been so good, thank Ishvala. That's the whole point, really. But it's gonna be fun! Well, there'll be some speeches and the like, which will probably be boring, but there'll be music and dancing and singing in the streets, and the _best_ food you've ever had! _Zhaarad _Shua especially wanted to be up and running by then."

"But you won't be?" Rose asked, her hope sinking once more. She wanted to go now more than ever.

"Well, we've got a roof over our heads and a floor under our feet," the young man said, "which was good enough for us once. But this isn't for us, this is for fancy Amestrians like yourself-"

Rose let out a laugh. "Oh, I'm not fancy at all!"

The young man laughed in return. "Well, you know what I mean." He paused for a few moments. "You know what?" he continued, sounding as though he was drawing her into a clever conspiracy. "If you really want to come for the festival, I'll make sure there's a room ready for you."

Rose drew in a quick gasp. "Really?"

"Oh, yes! Let's see. Today's Thursday. By Monday, I promise I'll have a room all ready! You'll be our first customer!"

Rose nearly giggled. "I will _definitely _take you up on that offer! Oh, and how much is it a night?"

"Oh…uh…let me see…" There was the faint sound of paper rustling. "I've got a list here, because it's supposed to change with the seasons…Here, I tell you what! Since you'll be our first guest ever, I'll give you a special rate, cheaper than the summer rate. How does that sound?"

"That sounds fine!" Rose agreed. She gave a little laugh. "You know, you're good at this!"

"Ah, thanks, _Zhaarana_," the young man replied. "I pulled folks all over Ishval for four years, so I know what they want and I know where to find it. But after a while, your feet get tired, you know?"

"Yes, I guess they would," Rose said. She wasn't entirely sure what he was talking about, but he seemed like a bright, promising fellow. "You sound like a regular factotum."

The young man was silent for a moment. "A what?"

Rose smiled. "That's someone who does everything."

The young man laughed. "That's me, all right! I like the sound of that! Anyhow, we'll be looking forward to your arrival!" the young man said cheerfully. "Oh! Hold on! Can I get your name, please?"

"Yes. It's Rose Thomas."

She could hear the young man very softly spelling out the letters as he apparently wrote them down. She heard him whisper _T—O—M. _

"That's with an _H_," she corrected him politely.

"Oh. Where?"

"After the _T_."

"_T—H—O—M—A—S_?"

"That's right."

The young gave a sheepish little laugh. "Sorry! Guess I should have paid a little more attention in school. I got told that enough times."

"That's all right," Rose said. "And what's your name?"

"Me? My name's Atash."

"Well, I want to thank you very, very much, Atash!" Rose declared. "I really appreciate you going to so much trouble for me."

"Oh, it's no trouble at all, _Zhaarana_!" Atash assured her. "None at all! We'll see you next week!"

"Thanks, Atash. Good-bye!"

Rose hung up the phone and sat back in the chair, feeling like a seasoned traveler. She would have to break the news to Wilfred in the morning, and after grumbling about it for a while, he'd take it like a martyr.

**888**

"You did _what?_"

Atash glared back at Stanno. "We were supposed to be open by now anyway!"

"But you didn't even talk to me about it first!" Stanno slammed his beer bottle down on the table. The other patrons in the small tavern at one end of Kanda's marketplace glanced over at the carpenter, then looked away, hiding grins or shaking their heads. Stanno came here practically every evening and it was the first place Atash looked for him.

"She's a _customer_!" Atash snapped back."I'm not gonna turn away a customer because you just wanna sit around on your lazy-"

Stanno jabbed a finger at him. "You can go back to pulling a 'shaw, you know!"

Atash threw his hands in the air. "Then _nothing_ would ever get done! Who had to talk the builders into coming back whenever they got sick of you? You with your ooh-look-at-me-I'm-a-master-craftsman! They're craftsmen too, you know! And they worked faster than you did!"

"Bricklayers!" Stanno sneered. "A master craftsman doesn't do rush jobs. I take pride in my work. Now I'm busy getting my inventory ready for the festival."

"You're busy stuffing your face!" Atash waved his hand impatiently at the plate of food in front of the carpenter. "And who's gonna buy all your crap if there aren't any visitors 'cause there's no damn hotel for them to stay at?" he countered. He regarded Stanno with contempt. "You're just sore because it was Shua's idea and not yours!"

"That is a pile of goat dung," Stanno replied matter-of-factly. "Just like that stuff between your ears."

Abuse tended to roll off Atash like water off a duck. He planted his palms determindedly on the table. "Look, _Zhaarad,_ just leave it to me! The plumbing and the wiring in the north end is all connected. That end's as good as ready. We just need to make sure one room has all its linens and has a rug and a lamp and a bit of furniture. Oh, and we need to hire someone to make up the rooms and do the cleaning."

"Why can't you do that?"

"Because I can't do _everything_!" Atash thought for a moment, then he shrugged. "Well, actually, I can. But, well, that's women's work, _Zhaarad!"_

"You should be good at that."

"No, see, I know a girl."

Stanno stuffed a piece of flatbread into his mouth and talked around it. "Ishvala help us!"

Atash drew himself up. "She's a good girl from a nice family!"

"Aren't they all?" Stanno muttered. He reached for his beer, then looked back up at Atash. "This is _your _girl you're talking about, right?"

Atash put on a stubborn, defensive look. "So?"

"The one who's still in school?"

"So?"

"So, Andakar's not gonna let her ditch school to work for me, of all people."

"She doesn't have to ditch school!" Atash argued. Then he shrugged, not so confidently. "Well, maybe just a little. Look, don't worry about that! She'll talk to _Zhaarad _Andakar."

Stanno gave a derisive snort. "Good luck to her, then. She can flutter her eyelashes all she wants, it won't work with him." He smirked. "I know. I've tried."

Atash stared at him dubiously. "Really?"

"No, you idiot!" Stanno sat back in his chair and gave a long, weary sigh. "Fine, kid. Just go do what you need to do. But if anything goes wrong, it'll be on your head."

**888**

"No."

Pashmina quickened her step to keep up with the headmaster, since he was making no concession to slow down for her. "But why _not_?"

"Because right now, you should be concentrating on your school work." Scar gave her a mildly severe glance. "And you need to concentrate a little more than others, _laleh_."

Pashmina stuck out her lower lip and gave Scar a wounded look. He closed his eyes and shook his head.

"Don't do that. I didn't mean it unkindly. And aren't you supposed to be learning how to weave when you're not in school?"

Pashmina gave a dramatic groan. "I _hate_ weaving! It's so _boring_! Anyway," she went on with little concern, "Auntie's busy teaching my sister. She'll need to know more than me. She'll have a hard time finding a husband because she's plain and I'm not."

Scar halted his stride and quickly lifted his palm to his mouth, blowing on it sharply. "_Shehai li Ishvala!_ This from one of _my_ students?" He turned to glare down at the girl. "Listen to me, _laleh_! Weaving is an art that has lasted from antiquity. Time won't be so kind to your pretty looks!"

Pashmina's mouth dropped open and she stamped her foot. "_Zhaarad _Andakar, you're so _mean_!"

"I am _not_ mean," Scar replied with austere calm. "I am worried. I worry about all of you. I worry about how you'll live your lives after you've left school. That's why I'm trying to teach you more than how to spell and how to count. I'm trying to teach you how to make wise decisions. I want you to have a secure future."

"But I already know exactly what I'm going to do, _Zhaarad_!" Pashmina argued readily. "This is my last year of school—"

"If you're lucky."

"What?"

Scar shook his head. "Nothing."

Pashmina gave her hair a toss and went on. "And then I'm going to marry Atash!"

"_Ai, Ishvala_!" Scar muttered despairingly, continuing on his way. "He's another one."

Pashmina bridled defensively. "Atash is smart!"

"He's _clever_," Scar replied. "It's not the same thing."

"But it's just as good! He told me he's a _factotum_," Pashmina declared, enunciating the word proudly.

Scar nearly stumbled to a halt. "He told you _what_?"

Pashmina smiled brightly up at him. "He's a factotum. That's somebody who can do everything!"

"Not quite. It's a servant who is hired to do everything."

Pashmina shrugged, unperturbed. "He can still do everything."

"He can't find Drachma on a map."

Pashmina rolled her eyes. "Well, who'd want to go there, anyway?"

Scar considered the girl for several moments with a stern, thoughtful look. She cocked her head a little to one side and gave him her sweetest, sunniest smile.

His eyes narrowed and he raised a warning finger. "Mark this well, Pashmina. You are struggling with your grades. No matter what sort of plans you've come up with, I will not allow you to fail in school. I'm not happy with the notion of you becoming a maidservant—"

Pashmina saw the door crack open and she jumped in to give it a push. She clutched Scar's forearm with both hands. "But I'm not going to be a maidservant! I'm going to be Head of Housekeeping!"

"—and I'm even _less _happy about you working for Stanno."

"Oh, _Zhaarad _Stanno hardly even steps foot in the hotel anymore," Pashmina put in quickly. "Atash said once he was done getting sawdust all over the place, he's got no time for it. Atash says he's just a lazy old sinner."

Scar kept his expression as stern as he could even though a muscle at the corner of his mouth gave a little twitch. "He's still the chieftain of Kanda."

"Anyway, Atash says he'll practically be running the hotel on his own." She gave Scar a soulful, pleading gaze. "That's why he _needs _me!"

Scar gave a deep sigh of resignation. "Well, if you're going to do this, you should put your best effort into it. If you give me your solemn word that you'll keep up with your studies and raise your grades, I'll allow you one hour from school a day, either in the morning or the afternoon. But you must let me and your other teachers know which it will be. And you must have your aunt's permission."

"I promise I will!" Pashmina gave a couple of happy little bounces. "Oh, _thank_ you, _Zhaarad_ Andakar! I _knew_ you'd say yes! You're _so _sweet!"

Scar disengaged his arm from her and put it around her shoulders as they continued on. "I thought I was mean," he growled dryly.

**888**

Wilfred's face drooped sorrowfully as though it aged ten years in a few seconds. "But…but you just got back from the last trip!"

Rose tried not to roll her eyes. "Willie, that was a couple of years ago."

Wilfred rolled his shoulders mulishly. "I'm still getting over it."

Rose gave a quiet sigh. "I need to do this, Willie. I'm not trying to make you unhappy. I already talked to Suzanne. She'll cover for me while I'm gone." She grabbed Wilfred's hands in both of hers. "Please don't make this so hard. You'll be fine! The counter will be fine! Liore will be fine!"

Wilfred gave a mournful sniff. "I'm gonna miss you, Rosie-girl."

Rose smiled affectionately and hugged him. "I'm not leaving forever, Willie."

"Well…" Wilfred stepped back and took a swipe at his nose with his cleaning rag. He then settled his cap on his head, a sign that he was ready to meet a challenge. He shook a finger at her. "You watch what you eat when you're there! And make sure you boil the water! And don't wander off alone! There could be bandits or some other bloody-minded folk out there in the desert, ready to snatch up pretty girls like you and take 'em off somewhere and…well, never mind…and…and…look out for wild critters and such, and—"

Rose laughed. "Willie! It's going to be fine! It's a perfectly civilized place! I'll send you a postcard and I'll bring you back a nice present!"

Wilfred jerked his chin at her. "You just bring yourself back in one piece, Rosie-girl."

* * *

**Yes, I named Atash's girlfriend after a hamster, but the name popped into my head and it just stuck. Pashmina is a kind of wool, and she's pretty wooly-headed.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Since it had no door, Rose gripped the frame of the roofless reconnaissance vehicle as its driver bounced it along the desert road. A pleasant and engaging young man, Atash was pretty much the way she pictured him, with a bright, eager smile against his tawny features and a head of tousled white hair. The other passengers on the train, soldiers returning to the fort, had given him some good-natured ribbing. They seemed somewhat amused by the fact that Rose was actually staying at the hotel, and she wasn't sure whether to be concerned about that.

But Atash seemed to radiate an infectious confidence and optimism, and Rose decided to put aside any concerns and simply admire the view around her. They sped past vegetation that she had never seen before. There were strange, spiky cactuses that looked vaguely lethal, but their harshness was tempered by feathery limbs of trees that spread like soft umbrellas over their shorter neighbors. While she was taking in the surroundings, the car slowed a little and she turned to look ahead. A creature that looked like a skinny, gold-and-sand-colored wolf with big ears trotted across the road some distance away, giving them a single cautious glance before reaching the other side of the road.

"What was that?" Rose asked in a hushed voice.

"A jackal," Atash replied. He sped up a little and reached the point where the jackal had disappeared into the brush barely a moment before, and he slowed to a stop. "Look. Can you see it?"

Rose peered through the tangle of cactus, dried tufts of grass, and stumpy bushes. She shook her head. "No, I can't see it at all."

Atash grinned. "It's like they vanish!" he said. "There's an old, old story where the jackal was once a clever sorcerer who thought the world of himself. But Ishvala punished him for his pride and made him humble by turning him into an animal. But he's no less clever. He and the cactus wren, the other clever one, are always fighting in stories, trying to one up each other." Atash accelerated again rather suddenly and Rose was nearly flung back against her seat. "They're both noisy. You'll be hearing them a lot."

Rose sat upright again. "Are there a lot of wild animals here?" she asked, remembering Wilfred's warning. At the time she hadn't thought much about it.

"Oh, about as much as anywhere, I guess," Atash replied. "Rabbits and ground squirrels and quail and lizards and such. Oh, and the silver hawk!" he added proudly. "They only live here!"

"What about dangerous animals?"

"Well, there are pit vipers," Atash said, "but not so much in town."

"How much is 'not so much'?"

Atash grinned assuringly. "Oh, it's nothing to worry about! We keep a good eye out for them! But they're all part of the wide world. The vipers keep down the rats and the scorpions keep down the crickets."

Rose swallowed a little nervously. "Scorpions?"

Atash laughed. "Not to worry, _Zhaarana_!" he declared. "Just make sure you shake out your shoes before you put them on!"

Soon they could see the off-white and pale dusty rose walls of Ishval. Just as they neared the edge of the city, a mounted soldier came trotting up the road toward them. Atash slowed down and waved, calling out a greeting in Ishvalan.

The rider stopped alongside the car and Rose recognized him immediately. He seemed to find her familiar as well.

"Are you from Resembool, Miss?" he asked.

Rose shook her head. "No, I'm from Liore, but you probably saw me at Ed and Winry's wedding."

"Of course!" the officer said with a smile. "Colonel Miles, at your service, Miss…"

"Rose Thomas."

Miles gave an inclination of his head. "_Doishteve na Ishval_!"

"That means welcome to Ishval," Atash added in an undertone.

"Will there be a test?" Rose whispered back.

Atash looked shocked. "I wouldn't do that to you, _Zhaarana_! Not to our first customer!"

"Well, I hope you enjoy your stay, Miss Thomas," Miles said with a polite nod. Then to Atash he added, "No joy riding, kid! I want that recon car back without a scratch."

"Colonel!" Atash pressed his hand over his heart. "I swear I'll treat it like it's mine!"

"No, you won't," Miles countered as he tapped his horse's sides with his heels. "You'll treat it like it's _mine_."

"No worries!" Atash called after him. He pressed on the accelerator and they continued on. They reached the outer verge of the buildings and Atash pointed the car to the left to follow a road that was designated by a sign for _motor vehicle traffic only._ This road was an alley wide enough for two lanes of traffic and was lined on both sides by a low wall interspersed with steps.

Having to go down a back alley would not be considered much of a scenic route, but at many points along the way, the same feathery-leafed trees Rose saw earlier hung their limbs over the wall from the yards on the other side. Mounds of vines with a few remaining flowers cascaded over the tops of the walls as well, dropping leaves and flowers onto the street below. A few people were sweeping up the dried leaves at the base of the walls, and they waved as the car drove by.

Atash pointed to his right. "That's Daliha," he said. Indicating the buildings on the left, he said, "And that's Wahir on that side. We're heading to Kanda."

He didn't indicate how long that would take, but at the speed at which he was driving, it might not take long. At one point, however, they approached an intersection, out of which emerged a couple of men on horseback. They were Ishvalan, not soldiers, although they appeared to have some sort of uniform coat, long and khaki-colored. On the upper-left arm of their sleeves was a grey band with a simple representation of an eye. It seemed fairly obvious that they carried some sort of authority.

From the instant their horses' noses appeared from the intersecting street, Atash lifted his foot from the accelerator and the car rolled along at a very moderate speed. He gave the two men a friendly wave and a smile as they approached.

"Good morning to you, _Zhaaradii_!" he called cheerfully.

The two men nodded back and one of them raised his hand, but not in greeting. Atash's smile faded a little and he slowed to a stop.

The one who raised his hand gave a slight smirk. "I could hear your engine rev down, Atash," he said. "You wouldn't have been exceeding the speed limit now, would you?"

"Uh…" Atash seemed to be thinking quickly and then he brightened. "Not for prevailing conditions!"

The other horseman shook his head and clicked his tongue. "You don't want to get your shiny new license pulled, do you, _lahaat_?"

"No, of course not!" Atash replied, seemingly surprised that they should be suggesting such a thing in the first place. He tapped the side of his head. "The driver's manual is still fresh in my noggin!"

"Well, that's a mercy!" the first horseman remarked with a laugh. "It would be a shame to make your very first guest walk the rest of the way to her hotel."

Their tone was friendly, but Rose figured she ought to come to Atash's aid. "I thought he was driving quite carefully," she said. "I feel very safe."

The first horseman smiled at her. "You're very kind, _Zhaarana_," he replied. "But don't coddle our Atash too much. It'll go straight to his head." He looked back at the young man with a warning but indulgent look and silently tapped the eye emblem on his arm. The two men then continued on their way and Atash pressed the accelerator lightly to ease the car forward at a speed that he obviously didn't care much for.

Rose glanced behind them. "Are they policemen?"

Atash gave a nod. "Our _khorovar_ wanted to start up a force of our own instead of having military police. They're the _tagma_." He gave a little scowl of concentration. "It's supposed to be Old Ishvalan for 'order' or 'set in order', or something like that."

"Is there much crime here?" Rose asked.

"Oh, no!" Atash replied readily. "Folks here are still so glad to have their homeland back that they don't want to court trouble from anybody, be it the _tagma,_ the colonel, the _khorovar,_ or Ishvala." He gave a bit of a shrug. "Sometimes a fellow might get a little unruly after having a little too much at the tavern, or there might be a squabble in the marketplace over the price of melons, or maybe some kid decides he feels like skipping school one day—like I used to do," he added with an unapologetic grin. He chuckled. "They never would've caught me, though."

Atash threw a glance behind him to see if the _tagma_ were still in view. He turned around with a smile and pressed just a little on the gas, speeding up a bit. They came upon the outskirts of the central district of Gunja which, as Atash explained, was the home of the administrative offices of the Ishvalan government, the school that served the entire province, and, most importantly, the Great Temple. They could see it from the access road, its red dome rising above all the surrounding buildings.

Rose contemplated the wine-red tiles as they glowed warmly in the sun. Back in Liore, the so-called Church of Leto had been torn down, replaced by a very fine new town hall, and it was a memory that she was glad to put behind her. She was aware that the faith practiced by the Ishvalans was an ancient one, an integral thread in the weave of their lives. Atash did not seem like the reverent type. He seemed like a bit of a rascal, but a good-hearted one. For him to speak of the temple of Ishvala with such fond pride wasn't a bad endorsement.

After about another twenty minutes or so, Atash drew alongside a portion of the wall near a set of steps and stopped the car. "Here we are, _Zhaarana_!" he announced.

He hopped out of the car and gathered up Rose's bags, heading up the steps with them. "Right this way," he called over his shoulder.

Rose followed him up the stairs and along an alleyway between two walls. Set in the wall on their left was an iron gate. Atash set down one of the bags and pushed a latch at the top of the gate and nudged it open. Rose followed him through the gate and gave a quiet little gasp. They had just stepped into a walled garden with a couple of spreading trees, young plants along the base of the inside of the wall, and pots filled with flowers. There were three round tables in the center of this area, each with four chairs around them, and in a couple of places along the wall, there were rattan benches covered with brightly woven cushions. Low round tables were set in front of these.

Rose gazed around her. "This is lovely!" she breathed.

"Is it?" Atash asked her eagerly. "Ah, I'm glad you think so! Me and Pashmina worked hard on this all weekend!"

"Just two of you?" Rose said in amazement.

"Well, _Zhaarad _Dejan came and helped out, since his dad owns the place. He brought some of his folk with him, too, thank Ishvala!"

The scurrying of feet heralded the appearance of a pretty young Ishvalan girl who came out from inside the building. This was probably Pashmina.

"Welcome to the Desert Dove Hotel!" she exclaimed in a voice that could only be described as sincerely perky. "Your room is all ready, _Zhaarana_! Right this way!"

Rose followed the two young Ishvalans into the lobby of the hotel. It was not very big and very simply furnished. On either side of the lobby was a doorway opening onto a hallway and a flight of stairs. Beyond these, on the left, was a counter set in an arched window. Behind the counter was a small, tidy alcove. Atash rushed around Rose and entered the alcove from a side doorway. He very proudly planted a large book on the counter and opened it, handing Rose a fountain pen.

"If I could just have you sign here, _Zhaarana_! We start serving breakfast at seven, but you just let us know when you're ready."

Rose signed her name in the registration book, the very first name on the very first line. "What do you usually serve for breakfast?"

Atash glanced at Pashmina, who replied readily, "Fresh flatbread and sesame rolls, honey and prickly pear jam, and fruit. Oh! And real Xingese tea! Or coffee, if you prefer," she added proudly. "I just learned how to make coffee yesterday, and Colonel Miles and _Zhaarad _Jean both said it was really good."

"Right!" Atash announced. He took a key from a row of pegs along the back wall of the alcove and handed it to Pashmina, then picked up Rose's suitcases. "This way!"

Both the young Ishvalans led the way down the hall on the right. They passed by a number of open doorways, revealing rooms in various stages of completion. The door that they stopped at was the only one that was closed, and Pashmina unlocked it and pushed it open.

Unlike the other rooms, this one was fully furnished. It was painted a light, warm sandy shade, and the floor, like the rest of the hotel, was made up of dark red clay tiles. Against one wall was a bed with a lightly quilted bedspread with a delicate embroidered design around its edges. Next to the bed was a nightstand with a small ceramic lamp. Across the room from the door was a window, and below this were a small table and a chair. The window had no glass, but it had wooden shutters that opened inward.

Rose stood on the brightly woven rug in the middle of the floor and turned in a slow circle, admiring the room. Everything smelled new and fresh, and a pleasant breeze wafted in through the open window. There was a chest of drawers against the wall near the door and a tall wardrobe across from the bed. They were both made of a pale wood, probably pine, and she noticed that they and the door had simple, delicate lines carved into them. The dark reddish wood of the shutters, however, was covered with intricate carvings of flowers and geometric designs, interspersed with small openings to let in light when the shutters were closed. Somebody, somewhere, had put a lot of work into those.

The young Ishvalans watched her expectantly. "Well?" Atash asked finally. "What do you think?"

"It's lovely!" Rose pronounced as a smile grew on her face. She turned to the young couple, who seemed very pleased and relieved. "I'm so glad I came here!"

The two looked very gratified. "The bathroom is just at the end of the hall there," Pashmina told her, pointing out the door. "And you've got it all to yourself! And if there's anything you need, just ask!"

"Thank you!" Rose contemplated them for a moment, then said, "You two are doing a really marvelous job for being so young. I think Mr. Shua's going to be very proud of you, running this place all by yourselves!"

The young Ishvalans looked at each other with little grins that were partly pleased and partly embarrassed. "That's awfully kind of you, _Zhaarana,_" Atash replied. "But we're not _really_ running it by ourselves."

Pashmina gave a little snort of contempt, which sounded a little surprising, coming from her. "We might as well be," she muttered, "for all the help we got from _Zhaarad _Stanno!"

Atash gave a little rueful shrug and a nod. To Rose's questioning look, he replied, "He's _Zhaarad _Shua's partner."

"That means he owns this place, too, but do you think he'd show up to welcome our first guest?" Pashmina said indignantly. "Not likely!" She folded her arms. "His shop isn't even open yet. I checked."

Atash gave her a nudge. "We should wake him up."

Pashmina broke into a mischievous grin. "Oh, we _should_!" She grasped Rose's hand and pulled her toward the door. "Come and meet your host!"

"Uh…are you sure about this?" Rose asked as they went back down the hall.

"When _Zhaarad _Shua's not here, _Zhaarad _Stanno is responsible for this place," Atash said, "for all he claims not to be. He should at least say hello."

They went out through the front door and onto the street. Up and down this road were mostly two-story buildings that had workshops occupying the ground floor and living quarters on the top. There were people in open doorways busy at their various crafts. Atash went up to one of the buildings across the street and stood before a set of three wooden panels that appeared to serve as doors across the ground floor. The carvings on them looked rather a lot like the workmanship inside the hotel. The young man pounded on one of the panels with his fist. He stepped back and waited for a few moments. Then he sighed and shook his head.

He stepped out into the middle of the street and looked down around his feet for a moment. He stooped down and picked up a small rock. Straightening up, he tossed the rock up and down in his hand for a moment while he contemplated the building. Then he pulled his arm back and pitched the rock in a well-aimed arc, bouncing it sharply against a closed wooden shutter on the second floor. The crack echoed through the street and turned a few heads.

While Rose stared at this feat of presumptuousness, she heard a muffled but clearly outraged growling. The growl was made up of intelligible words, but they were in Ishvalan, and judging by the way Pashmina gave a small gasp and covered her mouth with a shocked giggle, the words used were not meant for polite company.

The shutters were flung open, revealing not only the glorious spectacle of Ishvalan obscenities at full volume, but the shirtless torso of the man from whose lungs and throat the roaring emerged. Neither Atash nor Pashmina seemed in the least intimidated by this display and were more amused than anything else, but Rose couldn't help but think that none of this would end well.

* * *

**I introduced the local law force, the _tagma, _sort of spur of the moment. It seemed sensible, but now I have to figure out what else I may have to do with them.**


	3. Chapter 3

**So here I am again, tossing another poor, unsuspecting canon character into the lions' den of my OC's and trying to make it work. Poor Rose...**

**I'm doing this as a sort of personal challenge, and it's becoming very challenging. If you're still sticking with me on this, bless your little boots.**

**Chapter 3**

As awkward as Rose felt, she began to feel even worse for the man, but only a few moments into his rant, he abruptly stopped and stared down at her with a puzzled scowl.

"Ishvala's blessings be heaped upon you and yours this fine day, _Zhaarad _Stanno Dreva, Chieftain of Kanda!" Atash called up cheerfully. He gestured with a little bow toward Rose. "This is _Zhaarana _Rose Thomas and she came all the way here from Liore to be your very first hotel guest and I knew you'd feel all torn up inside if you missed the chance to say hello!"

Stanno's features slowly set into a belated, slightly damaged dignity. He cleared his throat and carefully addressed Rose. "Let me put on a shirt and I'll be right down." As he turned away from the window, he cast Atash a seething glare and growled, "_Yaakhtai_!"

The shutters closed and several minutes went by before one of the wooden panels on the ground floor of the building slid to one side. Stanno stepped out, no longer shirtless, his striped sash bearing the appearance of having been thrown on and knotted hastily. His hair had been put in some semblance of order by a quick run-through with his fingers. He stepped up to the trio in the street and gave Rose a cautious nod.

Rose knew pretty much all of Liore's collection of characters. During her short time here so far, she had already started picking out Ishval's versions. Atash was one of the local enterprising scamps. Pashmina was his slightly ditzy but at the same time fairly shrewd sweetheart. The two members of the _tagma _they met on the access road were the good-natured but vigilant law enforcement officers. Colonel Miles was the stalwart commander of the local military establishment, a credit to his uniform and his people. She knew she would come across many other familiar types.

So who was this gentleman, Rose wondered. Which type was he? He was rather good-looking, his features not quite fine but definitely not coarse. A little dissipated around the edges. He probably wasn't married. A wife would not have allowed him to bellow obscenities into a quiet street, certainly not the one she lived on. He was apparently a man of authority, being the local chieftain, as well as a man of means, having a shared interest in the hotel. Was he also the local roué? Such a combination ought to add up to a more cheerful disposition, but that wasn't what Rose was seeing standing in front of her.

"Good morning," Stanno said in what barely escaped being a mumble.

"It's just gone noon," Pashmina offered helpfully.

Stanno gave her a sharp, irritable scowl. "Then why aren't you in school?"

"_Zhaarad _Andakar excused me today because it's our guest's first day," Pashmina replied loftily.

"I…uh…didn't mean to wake you up," Rose interrupted quickly. "It wasn't actually my idea."

Stanno went from glaring sullenly at the two young Ishvalans to contemplating Rose. "No, I…" He paused as his gaze was momentarily arrested by the locks of pink hair that framed her face. "…I didn't think it was. My shutters are all marked up from this one"—he jerked his chin at Atash—"throwing rocks. And I wasn't asleep, by the way," he added tersely.

"_Eh-h!_" Atash uttered the sound softly to himself, pointedly looking anywhere but at Stanno.

Stanno ignored him. "I hope you like your room," he said to Rose.

She got the impression that he said it because he was expected to, rather than out of sincere concern for her comfort. But until she found out more about him and was able to ascertain whether or not he was a bona fide jerk, she was prepared to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"I like it very much, thank you," Rose replied.

Stanno nodded. "Good. Good."

There were several beats of silence where, if Stanno was trying to think of anything else to say, he wasn't putting any particular effort into it. The two young Ishvalans glanced at each other, wondering, perhaps, if the other might have something to volunteer. Each second that ticked by became an agony to Rose.

"Well!" she said decisively. The others gave a start. Rose smiled pleasantly. "Your hotel is lovely and your staff is very helpful. But I know you must be busy, so I won't keep you any longer, Mr. Stanno. It was very nice to meet you!"

She thrust out her hand. Stanno considered it for a moment, then gave it a brief shake. "Uh…yes…likewise."

Rose looked back and forth at Atash and Pashmina. "I think I'll go unpack and then freshen up. Then you can tell me the best sights to see." She turned to Stanno with a parting smile. "Good morning!"

"Hmm?" Stanno had once again been fixated on her pink hair and had to quickly refocus his eyes on her face. "Oh. Definitely. Good morning."

Rose turned and headed back to the hotel, followed by the two young Ishvalans. Stepping into the lobby, she paused and let out a breath of relief. "Well, I'm not sure I enjoyed that."

Atash and Pashmina glanced at each other with dismay. "I'm sorry, _Zhaarana_!" Atash replied quickly. "I guess I got a little carried away." He gave a little shrug. "I've gotten so used to having to light a fire under that fellow."

"Well, you know him better than I do," Rose said. She put on a small, thoughtful frown. "I'm trying to decide whether I feel sorry for him." The two Ishvalans looked back at her doubtfully and she shrugged. "It does sort of take all kinds to make a world, after all." Rose smiled at the two. "So where's a good place to get lunch?"

8888

Pashmina took full advantage of her day off from school to show Rose around the Kanda marketplace. Liore had a farmer's market in the town square every Saturday, which was usually pretty festive, but it paled in comparison to what Rose saw around her. It was so wonderfully busy and noisy and exotic, yet comfortable at the same time. Snatches of music filled the air as merchants advertised their wares with their own unique chants. There were stalls and store fronts displaying fabric and baskets and yarn and spices and plump fruits and vegetables. Rose was almost afraid she wouldn't be able to take it all in.

"Is it like this all the time?" she asked in wonder.

"Mostly," Pashmina replied. "It's a little busier right now because of the festival. Everybody's getting ready for it. My auntie's going to be cooking all week."

Pashmina led Rose to join the small crowd in front of a food stall where some particularly savory smells were coming from. Rose stood on her toes to peer over the shoulders in front of her. There were skewers of meat grilling and pots bubbling behind the counter. A mound of round, flat bread sat in a basket on one of the prep tables, as well as bowls of scallions, chopped tomatoes, green herbs, and sliced eggs. Two women and a man were busy taking orders, serving customers, and dishing up food. They would take a piece of bread, fill it with combinations of meat, vegetables, eggs, or some sort of thick bean concoction from one of the pots. Then they wrapped it in paper and handed it to the waiting customer.

"What kind of meat is that?" Rose pointed to the grill. "Some of it looks like chicken. What's the darker one? Beef?"

Pashmina shook her head. "It's goat. You should try it."

They moved a little closer to the front of the line. Rose's mouth started watering. "What's the stuff in the pot? It looks like mushed up beans."

"It's _fel sheshku_. It's _really _good!"

They were nearly up to the counter, where food and money was being exchanged rapidly. There was no menu posted, and even if there were, Rose didn't think she could decipher it. The people running the stall might very well have their own brand of diner lingo, and Rose doubted that if she asked them to _walk a cow through the garden and make it cry_ that she'd get a burger with lettuce, tomato, pickles, and onions. There were already more people lining up behind her and she didn't want to hold up things up.

She nudged Pashmina. "Order for me!"

Pashmina glanced at her. "Are you sure?"

Rose nodded quickly. "I trust you. Whatever you like best. I'll treat!"

Pashmina grinned and spoke rapidly in Ishvalan to the man behind the counter, pointing to some of the pots and bowls. The man nodded and prepared four different combinations, wrapped them securely in paper, and handed them to the girls. He then filled two metal cups with a pinkish orange juice and set those on the counter.

"Four hundred cenz!" he pronounced.

Rose was impressed. "That's about the price of Willie's blue-plate special."

The man behind the counter laughed. He was short and reedy with a droopy white mustache above his lip. He had a dark blue cloth tied around his head. He and Willie probably would have gotten along famously. "This is _our _blue-plate special!"

The girls managed to juggle the food and cups between them, and they moved away to make room for the next customers. Around the side of the stall, under the shade of a couple of trees, were a group of tables with stools set around them. They were all full, occupied by workmen of various sorts and a few soldiers. Rose noticed that both the tables and the stools were old wire cable reels of various sizes that were being recycled. They had the same things back at Wilfred's lunch counter. Rose smiled. The Ishvalans obviously had the same "waste not want not" attitude as Liore.

At that moment, luckily, three men got up from one of the tables, waving to the remaining diner. Rose recognized him as one of the _tagma _officers she'd seen earlier. Pashmina quickly made her way over to the empty seats. She smiled coquettishly at the officer.

"Are these seats free, Captain Kaihan?" she asked, adding a bit of sing-song to her voice.

Kaihan sat back and considered the girl for a moment with a lift of his eyebrow and a little smirk. "Now, now, _laleh_! Why aren't you in school?"

Pashmina let out a little impatient puff of air. "Because I'm _working_!"

Kaihan laughed. "Oh, yes? I can see you're hard at it. Seriously, does the _khorovar _know you're traipsing around the marketplace?"

"He let me have today off," Pashmina explained. "Ask him, if you like. I'm showing _Zhaarana _Rose around Ishval today."

Kaihan gestured toward two of the stools. "Well, then, I'd be pleased to have you both join me." He turned to Rose as they sat down. "I'm guessing Atash got you to your hotel in one piece."

Rose smiled back at him. He looked to be in his early thirties. He had a nice, open countenance with a hint of rogue thrown in. He cut a very admirable figure and probably had a lot of female eyes following him as he rode through town.

"Oh, yes, he did," Rose replied with a smile. "He managed to not run over anything or anybody along the way."

The captain chuckled. "Atash is a decent kid," he agreed.

"He's not a kid!" Pashmina objected. "As soon as I'm done with school, we're getting married."

"Really? That's wonderful!" Rose said. "Congratulations!"

Pashmina gave her a gratified smile. "Thank you!"

"And what does your auntie say about that?" Kaihan asked with a hint of a wink at Rose. "Atash hasn't exactly established himself in anything. How does it go? Jack of all trades, master of none?"

Pashmina bridled. "Atash is _very_ clever! He could do anything he wanted!"

"I don't know_,_" Kaihan said. "Somehow I don't see him running for _khorovar_."

Pashmina rolled her eyes. "Well, no, of _course _not. Not against _Zhaarad _Andakar. He'll be _khorovar_ forever, probably."

Rose was busy frowning at one end of her bread wrap, trying to figure out where to bite into it.

"Just dive into it, _Zhaarana_," Kaihan told her.

Rose nodded as she took a big bite, filling her mouth with an amazing mixture of warm, chewy bread, soft, savory beans, tangy cheese, and crisp vegetables. It was one of the most delicious things she'd ever eaten, and she would have said so but for having a full mouth. She managed a deeply satisfied "Mmmm!" Definitely worth writing home about.

"I knew you'd like it!" Pashmina said with a giggle.

"What do you think of Ishval so far?" Kaihan asked after Rose had swallowed her mouthful.

She took a drink from her cup. It was a mix of citrus juices and some other fruit that Rose couldn't identify, but it was just the right combination of sweet and tangy. "It's beautiful!" Rose replied. "I knew it would be. You must have all worked so hard to bring it back."

"That we did!" Kaihan replied in heartfelt agreement. "It was like hell on earth when we first got here, but we pulled our homes back out of the ruins."

"_Zhaarana _Rose is from Liore," Pashmina said, since Rose had her mouth full again.

The significance wasn't lost. Kaihan's brows went up. "Are you now? Well, then, you folks had to do a bit of rebuilding, too, from all accounts."

Rose nodded. "It wasn't nearly as bad as what happened here." She frowned a little. "And I guess you could say we did it to ourselves." She brightened. "But that's all behind us."

Kaihan flashed a grin. "Sometimes the future is so bright, it's dazzling, isn't it?"

Rose gave a little laugh. The captain's smile was pretty dazzling, too. "Yes, it is."

"Well, ladies," Kaihan said, standing up. "I'd love to enjoy your company for longer, but I have to get back on patrol."

"Ooh, yes!" Pashmina uttered ominously. "You have to keep all the crooks and troublemakers shaking in their sandals!"

Kaihan shook his finger at her. "Speaking of troublemakers, I just might check with the _khorovar _to verify your story, _laleh_!" he teased. "Sounds very suspicious to me."

Pashmina shrugged, unconcerned. "Go ahead."

Kaihan just smirked in reply, then gave Rose a little bow. "Good day to you, _Zhaarana _Rose." Before turning away, he asked, "How long will you been in Ishval?"

"All week," Rose replied. "I'm staying for the festival."

Kaihan smiled approvingly. "Well, then, Liore's loss is our gain, if you don't mind me saying so." With a wave, he departed.

"He seems nice," Rose remarked, contemplating where she would take the next bite of her wrap.

"Kaihan? He's all right." Pashmina shrugged then grinned. "He jumped at the chance of joining the _tagma. _Beats taking care of goats."

Rose nodded as she swallowed another mouthful. "I can see where it'd be a lot more glamorous." She picked up her cup. "What kind of juice is this?"

Pashimina took a sip. "Orange and lime and prickly pear."

"Prickly pear? This is cactus juice?"

"That's right." The girl contemplated her cup. "_Zhaarad _Andakar said that the prickly pear is kind of like Ishvala's idea of a puzzle. He made a plant that would give us food and drink, but we had to figure out how to get to it without getting covered in prickles." Pashmina gave a little annoyed frown. "That's a lot like the way _Zhaarad _Andakar teaches. He never just _tells _you the answer. He makes you figure something out on your own."

"Well," Rose said, trying not to sound like a patronizing grown-up. "You remember stuff better that way."

Pashmina wasn't convinced, and she was disinclined to discuss school any further. They finished their lunch, packing up the leftovers for Atash, and they continued walking through the marketplace. Rose loved the atmosphere, which spoke of a people who had rediscovered life with a passion and weren't taking a moment of it for granted.

After looking over many of the wares for sale, Rose bought a bright red shawl made of soft wool. She thought the price was very reasonable. Something handmade like this would cost nearly twice as much in Liore. The roasted almonds she bought were also cheaper than she would find them in Liore, being locally grown. Rose couldn't understand why Amestrians weren't flocking to Ishval, and she intended to spread the word once she went back home.

They returned to the hotel, and as they came up the street toward the entrance, a familiar figure was approaching from the other direction. The provincial governor of Ishval was carrying a couple of books under one arm, and Pashmina paused, her shoulders drooping.

"Oh, no! Really?" she moaned under her breath.

Scar gave her a mildly disapproving look as he stepped up and handed her the books. "Don't make that face, Pashmina. This is all for your benefit. I've marked the pages you need to work on."

Pashmina took the books. "Thank you, _Zhaarad _Andakar," she mumbled.

Scar turned to Rose, looking solemnly pleased. "So, you're our visitor. I'm glad you decided to come to Ishval."

"I am too!" Rose replied with a smile. "It really is beautiful here. And just so you know," she added, "Pashmina has been hard at work taking good care of me."

"I'm glad to hear it. Will you be able to spare her for the next few days? She can't afford to miss too much school."

Pashmina opened her mouth to protest, but Rose answered smoothly. "I'll manage, I'm sure." Before the Ishvalan girl could get into a pout, Rose put an arm around her shoulders. "Let's go in, and I'll help you with your homework."

Pashmina gave a little gasp. "Really?"

"That's very kind of you," Scar remarked. "She may need a little help with the arithmetic, since she missed today's lesson. It's fractions," he added.

Pashmina let out another groan, but Rose waved her hand. "I do all the bookkeeping at my job back in Liore. I've got fractions all figured out. We'll breeze through it!"

Scar seemed to be fairly satisfied with this arrangement and he left them to it. The two women sat in the garden and Rose helped Pashmina unravel the mysteries of fractions. The girl was easily distracted, that much was plain. Rose could see what a challenge school must be for her, as well as the challenge it must be to teach her. She definitely benefited from some one-on-one tutoring.

The Ishvalan grammar wasn't something Rose could help her with, but it was just some repetitive practice, and Pashmina was able to get through it. Rose then spent the rest of the day relaxing in the garden with a good book and a cup of tea. When suppertime came around, Atash arrived with a meal for all of them. Rose felt very pampered, and she enjoyed the young peoples' company.

By that evening, Rose had had a very long day and she decided to get ready for bed. After a relaxing bath, she wrapped herself in a robe and returned to her room. Changing into her nightgown, she was just about to get into bed when she heard a very faint clicking sound. She wasn't even sure she had actually heard it at first, but she glanced around the room by the light of the bedside lamp.

Keeping close to the wall, a small creature was making its way across the floor. Rose stared at it for a moment in disbelief. She didn't think she had ever seen anything so hideously creepy in her life. It was a sickly yellowish color, with brown stripes across its back. It was probably only about four inches long, but to Rose, it looked huge. It crawled along on eight legs and it had a pair of claws with sharp pincers that it held in front of what passed for a head. At the other end, dragging flat along the ground, was a pulpy, segmented tail, at the end of which was a finely pointed stinger.

Rose wasn't particularly cowardly, but she hated bugs. She kept the lunch counter scrupulously clean to keep it insect free, and if she discovered any wildlife, she had to have Wilfred kill it and get rid of it. She couldn't even watch the process and she had no desire to see the results.

After getting over her initial paralyzing shock, she let out a shriek. The scorpion froze, and its tail whipped up defensively over its back. It turned toward her, ready for battle.

This was just a bit too much for Rose, and she couldn't scramble up onto her bed fast enough. All the screaming in the world wouldn't make the creature disappear, but it was all she could manage to do, and once she started, she didn't seem to be able to stop.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Stanno hooked the second carved wooden panel into its track and slid it next to the first one. He was proud of these doors. They were good and solid, made of oak gathered from mature trees that grew along the foothills of the eastern mountains. Stanno took a proprietary interest in those oaks, many of which were several hundred years old. He made a point of planting the likeliest looking acorns that had fallen whenever he had the chance, getting to them before the squirrels did. Some of the ones he had gotten to early on had finally begun to sprout. It would be decades before they would mature, and even longer before they could be harvested. He wouldn't live to see that or, more importantly, profit by it, but at least he wouldn't be the one responsible for decimating the Ishvalan black oak. He hadn't made many other contributions to posterity.

He fastened the latches that attached the second panel to the first, holding them securely together, and he went to hang the final panel into place. He paused for a moment, standing in the doorway and gazing across the road and down a little at the hotel. His feelings concerning that enterprise were mixed. He might be Shua's partner, but they weren't exactly friends. Stanno sighed. It seemed like such a good idea at the time, but most ideas seem flawless when you're drunk. It would be some time before he saw a return on his investment of money and considerable labor. In the meantime, that smug, lowborn _vatrish_ bastard was off in Central City, living the high life.

He had to admit, though, he was rather proud of the work he'd done, especially the shutters, which he'd made from _meskaa_ wood. Those trees grew like weeds, and while they were all away during the Exile, they had taken over Ishval.

Light came through the carved filigreed openings of one set of downstairs windows. That must be where they'd put that Amestrian woman. Stanno frowned slightly.

She had pink hair. How did that happen? Was she born that way? Or did she dye it, and if so, why? Why go to the trouble? She didn't seem like the vain type, but who could tell with Amestrians.

She had violet eyes. That wasn't something you saw every day, either. Throughout the entire day he kept recalling them. From his workshop he had watched the woman leave with Pashmina and then return a few hours later. Andakar had shown up for a few minutes and Stanno kept his head down. He didn't really feel like passing the time of day, should such a thing occur. He and the _khorovar_ didn't generally chit-chat.

Stanno stood for several minutes, holding the door panel and tapping the first two fingers of his right hand against it while he considered making a token appearance across the street. Up until now, he had been perfectly content to let Atash and that silly girl of his take care of the operation of the hotel. Ishvala, those two were a pair! Well, there was a saying about how God looked after fools and children. Depending on whom you asked, God was supposed to look after drunks as well. Maybe he didn't drink enough.

After a moment of resolve, Stanno leaned the panel against the wall just inside the doorway and brushed off his hands. He straightened his shirt and his _chuva_, pushed his fingers through his hair, and set off down the street toward the hotel.

The front door was open and Stanno stepped inside. Pashmina was there in the lobby, sweeping the floor, and she looked up with a little gasp. She pressed her hand over her heart.

"Oh, you gave me such a start, _Zhaarad _Stanno!"

Stanno pointed back over his shoulder with his thumb. "You ought to keep that door locked after dark."

Pashmina shrugged and resumed her sweeping. "What if our guests need to come and go? They can lock their own rooms, after all."

Stanno scowled. "Someone could come in and steal the money."

Pashmina just smirked. "There isn't any. Not yet, anyways. _Zhaarana_ Rose doesn't pay until she leaves."

"It's the principle of the thing!" Stanno retorted. "Guests might keep valuables in the safe."

Pashmina rolled her eyes. "Well, it's a safe, isn't it?" she countered. "And we've only got the one guest, don't we? She hasn't asked us to keep anything. And besides," she added, pointing toward the reception desk. "Atash sleeps back there in the office."

"Oh. Right." Stanno vaguely recalled Shua mentioning something of the sort. He must have put it promptly out of his mind. He jerked his head toward the hallway of the north wing. "So, how's she doing? Any complaints?"

"Of course not!" Pashmina replied. "She's such a lovely person! Even if she had cause to complain—which she doesn't, I'll have you know—she would probably say it so nicely it wouldn't be like complaining at all."

Stanno nodded. "Good." He looked around the lobby. "Where's Atash?"

"In the garden, locking the back gate. See?" Pashmina remarked smugly. "If anyone's going to sneak in, they'd do it from the back!"

Atash came in just then from the door to the garden, carrying a kerosene lamp. "Right. That's done. You ready, _laleh_?"

Pashmina nodded. "Just about."

"Ready for what?" Stanno asked, partly curious, partly suspicious.

"To walk me home," Pashmina replied as though it were painfully obvious.

Stanno frowned. "You can't leave your guest alone in the hotel like that! What if she needs something?"

"It's all right, _Zhaarad_," Atash assured him. "We'll only be gone a few minutes and she knows—"

A muffled but plainly terrified shriek came from the north wing's hallway. The three Ishvalans in the lobby stared at each other for a moment. Then the first shriek was followed by more screaming. Stanno bolted down the hallway with Pashmina and Atash close on his heels. Stanno stopped at the door of Rose's room and grasped the knob, finding it locked. He pounded on the door.

"Open up!" he shouted, but the screaming continued. With a metal jangling, Atash quickly handed him a ring of keys, holding one up. Stanno grabbed the ring and shoved the key in the lock. It wouldn't turn and he cursed while fumbling to get the next key into the lock. This one turned and he flung the door open.

Rose was kneeling in a trembling crouch on her bed, her eyes wide. When the others burst into the room, she clapped one hand over her mouth and she pointed at the facing wall with the other hand. By the light of the room's lamp and Atash's lantern, the Ishvalans looked where she was pointing and saw the scorpion. Stanno snatched the broom out of Pashmina's hands and brought the stiff bristles down on top of the creature. He had to do this several times before it finally stopped moving. Tossing the broom aside, Stanno strode over to the bed and grabbed Rose's shoulders.

"Are you all right?" he demanded. "Where did it sting you?"

Rose was reduced to frantic gasping and she clutched the front of Stanno's shirt. "It—it—" She swallowed hard, her throat dry. "It didn't sting me," she managed to get out.

Stanno gave her a disgusted look and released her shoulders. "Sweet Ishvala, woman! What the hell were you screaming about, then?"

Rose dropped back on her heels and stared at Stanno incredulously. From the other side of the room, where they were inspecting for any other intruders, Atash and Pashmina both spun around and gave Stanno a stare as well, full of shock and indignation. Stanno glanced over Rose's head at them, then looked back at Rose, who gazed back at him with a hurt, reproachful look.

"I was screaming," she said slowly, her voice trembling a little, "because I was scared."

Well. He certainly made a hash out of that, didn't he? Those remarkable eyes were welling up with tears for which he was personally responsible. He was almost more shaken by that than anything else. Feeling angry, a little at Rose but mostly at himself, Stanno cleared his throat with painful awkwardness. "Uh…look…I'm sorry," he murmured. "Honestly, I'm sorry. It's just that…the way you were going on…I thought…"

By the look on Rose's face, Stanno didn't think he was remedying the situation much. He gave Pashmina a desperate glance, hoping she'd take over. But with an angry glare, she jabbed her forefinger up toward the ceiling. Stanno frowned at her, uncomprehending. Pashmina then used her fingers to mime walking up stairs. Stanno gave a quick nod and looked back at Rose.

"How about we move you upstairs?" he said. "That way you don't have to worry about anything else getting in."

To his great relief, Rose seemed mollified by this. With a little sniff, she asked, "It wouldn't be too much trouble?"

"None at all, _Zhaarana_!" Atash exclaimed. "We'll put everything right in no time! We just have to move the mattress and some of the furniture," he said, directing this remark at Stanno.

Stanno gave him a brief, irritated look. "Well, then, the sooner we get started, better!" He turned back to Rose. "If you don't mind waiting in the…uh…lobby…" Pashmina gave him a quick nod and mimed drinking out of a cup. "…Pashmina will fix you some tea. And she'll wait with you," he added.

Taking this as her cue, Pashmina gathered up Rose's robe. "I just swept the lobby," she said cheerfully. "There's not so much as a roly-poly bug in there!"

Rose looked over the edge of the bed, eyeing the dead scorpion uncertainly.

"Believe me, it's dead," Stanno assured her. "Look." He stepped over to where the scorpion's remains were and gave it a nudge with the edge of his sandal.

Rose drew in a sharp gasp and covered her mouth as though expecting the creature to suddenly come alive and go for Stanno's throat. He gave her an indulgent smirk and went back to Rose's bedside, beckoning to her. "Come along now," he chided her.

Rose was still reluctant to move. "Did anyone check under the bed?"

"There is no 'under the bed'." Stanno kicked the wooden platform that the mattress sat on.

"Oh." Rose said quietly. She was about to slide her feet into her slippers when she drew up her feet. "Could you check those for me?"

Stanno scowled down at the small terrycloth scuffs. They didn't look big enough to hold a scorpion, and he nearly said so, but when he glanced back at Rose, she looked genuinely anxious. Trying not to sigh too loudly, he bent down and gave each slipper a deliberate shake. To forestall her asking him to do so, because he had the feeling she would, he also took a quick look inside. Then he dropped them back on the floor. "They're fine."

Rose turned the slippers with her toes to face the right way and stood up, pushing her feet into them.

Stanno beckoned to Pashmina. "Take her out into the lobby and see that she's comfortable."

Pashmina gave Stanno a quick, contemptuous glare, which he ignored, then held Rose's robe up so she could put it on. "That's right, _Zhaarana._ You come with me and have a nice sit down and a cup of tea."

Rose slipped her arms into her robe and tied it securely. Pashmina took the lantern from Atash and led her out of the room.

Stanno drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Well, maybe that wasn't a complete disaster. Then again, maybe he should have just stayed home.

"Smooth as a cactus pad, you are," Atash remarked.

"Shut up!" Stanno jerked his head toward the dead scorpion. "Toss that out the window!"

Atash crossed the room and bent down to gingerly pick the scorpion up by its tail just below the stinger. "_Zhaarana _Rose was telling us earlier that she was going to tell all her friends what a nice place this was." He carried the dead scorpion over to the window and opened one of the shutters, tossing the body into the street. "If you're going to treat your guests like that, she's not going to think it's so nice anymore."

"Yes, _thank_ you!" Stanno sneered back. "I'm aware of that!" He gestured irritably at the bed. "Let's get this upstairs!"

Atash pulled the coverings off the mattress and set them on the chair. Lifting one end of the mattress, he went on. "You need to do more to make it up to her."

Stanno grasped the other end and they lifted the mattress. "Like what?"

"Well, you could—here, tip it on its side—you could give her a couple of free days or lower her bill or something."

Stanno backed out the door with his end of the mattress. "Fine. Is there even a room we can use upstairs?" he grunted as they made their way toward the stairs.

"We can use the one just above this one," Atash replied. "Then we can get Pashmina to gather up her clothes and such."

"Pashmina's busy making tea," Stanno said, stepping carefully backwards up the stairs. "You can gather up the lady's clothes."

Atash peered around the side of the mattress with a scandalized look. "I can't do that! I'm not going to handle some woman's underthings!"

"_Shehai li Ishvala_!" Stanno groaned."Aren't you planning on marrying that girl of yours?"

Atash shrugged defensively. "That's different."

Stanno rolled his eyes. "Then just switch the dresser drawers! Then you won't have to touch anything!"

Atash nodded. "Oh. All right."

They got to the top of the stairs and Stanno located the light switch for the upstairs hallway, flipping it with his elbow.

"Right," Atash went on. "Now, it's that second door there on your right. It's not locked."

Stanno pushed the door open with his back and flipped the light switch on the wall. They carried the mattress to the wooden platform and laid it on top. Stanno straightened up and looked around the room. "We'll have to bring the rug up, too."

Atash nodded. "Bring her some flowers."

Stanno scowled at him. "What?"

"_Zhaarana _Rose. You should come by again tomorrow and bring her flowers." He grinned. "Roses, you know? Then she'll think you're clever!"

Stanno gave him a withering glare. "You just might end up with those roses up your—"

"It's like this, _Zhaarad_,"Atash explained patiently. He held his hands out before him, palms facing up. Indicating his right hand, he said, "This is you being a complete _yaakhtai_." Giving his left hand a slight wiggle, he said, "This is you being a fine, pleasant fellow." He moved his left hand down while raising his right. "The nicer you are, the more you'll shift the balance in your favor and the more likely it'll be that she'll forgive you."

Stanno glowered at Atash's little demonstration as the sort of remedial instruction that got the kid through school. As much as Stanno hated to admit it, though, he had a point.

"All right," he said in a weary sigh. "I'll figure out something." He jerked his head toward the door. "Come on! Let's get the rest up here. I don't want to be here all night!"

8888

"It wouldn't have killed you," Pashmina said as she handed the steaming cup of tea to Rose, "but it'd hurt like stink, not to mention ruin your visit."

"Thank you." Rose took the cup and sipped from it. She sat in one of the two rattan bucket chairs in the small lobby, her knees drawn up and her feet tucked up on the edge of the seat, still feeling a little uncomfortable about the floor. What Pashmina just told her wasn't entirely reassuring.

"I stepped on a scorpion a couple of years ago," Pashmina went on, sitting in the other chair.

Rose drew in a gasp. "Did you really?"

The girl nodded. "You should've heard me screaming!" she related eagerly. "My auntie and our neighbor carried me into the house and washed off my foot then they had me soak it in vinegar while our neighbor ran to the potter's for a bit of clay. They mixed the clay with a bit of vinegar and wrapped it over the spot as a poultice. My foot went numb and I felt horrible all over, like I wanted to crawl out of my skin. I cried like a baby for nearly two hours!"

Pashmina's story came out in a lighthearted way, being a thing of the past, but it made Rose shudder. "Sounds awful!"

"I felt better in a couple of days." Pashmina lifted her shoulders. "As long as you get to it quickly, it's not as bad as it could be." She gave Rose a quick sideways glance. "I suppose that's why _Zhaarad _Stanno was so worried at first."

"At first," Rose repeated quietly and pointedly. She cradled the cup in her hands. "Does he have a reason for being so unpleasant?"

"Well…" Pashmina began. She sounded somewhere between not wanting to divulge a secret that wasn't hers to divulge and desperately wanting to share a bit gossip. The latter seemed to win out and she leaned a little closer to Rose.

At that moment, however, the two men could be heard coming back up the hallway. Pashmina stood up quickly as they stepped out into the lobby. Stanno turned to the girl, nodding back toward the hallway.

"Go make up the bed," he told her. "And straighten up anything we might have missed."

As Pashmina hurried down the hallway and Atash went behind the reception desk, Stanno looked down at Rose, considering her cautiously. "I'd…um…like to apologize again for the way I acted," he said in a low tone, as though not quite wanting to be heard. "If there's something I could do to—"

Atash popped up behind him. "Show her around Ishval tomorrow!" he cut in blithely.

Stanno gave a slight start and shot him a warning look, but Atash added quickly, "Pashmina has to be at school, and there's workmen coming tomorrow that I have to stay and look after."

"Why do—"

"I'd actually like that very much, Mr. Dreva."

Stanno looked back at Rose, not quite managing to hide the dismay in his face. "You would?"

Rose smiled back at him sweetly. She was by no means a spiteful person. She had a kind and generous nature, but she had learned the hard way to not let people take advantage of it. She would gladly give this man the chance to make amends, but he would have to work for it. She also had an ulterior motive; she was curious about him. He was a mystery to her, and he needed unraveling.

"Yes, I would. Say, after breakfast?"

Stanno had a slight air of being backed into a corner, and Rose thought, almost sadly, that he might need to get hit with a broom. But then he gave a nod. "All right then. I'll…um…call on you around…ten?"

Rose stood up. "That'll be fine. I'm looking forward to it."

The feeling did not appear quite mutual, but Stanno managed a half-hearted smile and was about to reply when there was a sharp knocking against the frame of the front door.

"Hello?" a woman's voice called.

Atash hurried toward the door. "Come in, _Zhaarana _Nenya! I was just about to walk Pashmina home."

"Well, I should hope so!" The woman strode into the lobby, glancing around with mild curiosity. "It's getting late."

"Well, we had to move _Zhaarana _Rose's room," Atash explained. "There was a scorpion in it."

Nenya gave a little shudder. "Nasty things!" She nodded briskly to Stanno. "Good evening to you, _Zhaarad._" Turning to Rose, she went on, "The girl stepped on one once. Serves her right for going barefoot."

Rose nodded. "Yes, she was telling me."

Nenya lifted her hands. "Merciful Ishvala, what a noise she made!" She gave Atash a backhanded smack on the arm. "Tell her I'm here."

Atash promptly hurried down the hall and Nenya primly readjusted the shawl over her head. "I don't mind Pashmina working here. At least she's doing _something._ But if I catch her and that young fellow in any goings on…" She shook her head to imply that the consequences would be dire. She shook her finger at Stanno. "I hope you're keeping an eye on them, _Zhaarad_! They're your responsibility!"

Judging by the look of distaste on Stanno's face, Rose spoke up before he could say something rude. "I think they're sweet together."

Nenya looked a little surprised then gave a knowing smile. "Honey is sweet, but you can get stung for your efforts."

Stanno let out a short, quiet laugh. "Isn't that the truth?" he muttered.

Rose glanced at him curiously, and Nenya just lifted an eyebrow.

"Coming, Auntie!" Pashmina called from the hallway.

She and Atash reappeared, and the young man handed Rose a key. "Here you go, _Zhaarana. _Your new room is all ready for you. I'll take you upstairs."

Pashmina quickly beckoned to Atash, and she reached up to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Good night!" she whispered.

"_Eh-h_!" Nenya hooked her elbow around Pashmina's and pulled her toward the door. "That'll be enough of that, _laleh_!"

"Good night, _Zhaarana _Rose!" Pashmina called over her shoulder as they went out. "See you in the morning!"

Rose let out a deep sigh. "Well, that was fun. I'm definitely ready for bed." She looked up at Stanno. "I'll see you tomorrow, Mr. Dreva."

His attention seemed to have drifted far away or perhaps turned inward. Either way, it took him a moment to respond, and he did so distractedly. "Hmm? Oh. Yes."

Rose gave him a parting smile and followed Atash down the hall, wondering if this was really going to be such a good idea.

8888

Stanno strode back across the street to finish locking up his workshop, secure in the knowledge that he'd had enough aggravation for one day. He had three cedar chests to finish that were going to fetch a good price, but they'd have to wait while he played host to this Amestrian woman. At least she was pretty. He certainly wouldn't be embarrassed by being seen with her. But he was fairly sure she didn't exactly like him. That look and those tears in those violet eyes of hers were still plaguing him, troubling him in a way that he hadn't expected, even beyond the thought of the grief he would get from Shua if he found out.

He set the last panel into place and locked it, then leaned back against it, closing his eyes wearily. Ishvala was a funny one. He doled out good fortune with a liberal hand to some, and to others He was stingy and piecemeal. Granted, Stanno admitted grudgingly to himself—but to no one else—maybe he deserved it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Reaching her arms above her head, Rose stretched luxuriously and breathed a contented sigh. Her bed was comfortable and she felt secure in her second floor room. She was sure she would have dreamed of scorpions and other creepy crawlies all night, but she didn't. She dreamed about Cornello, who was worse than any scorpion. But in her dream she drove him away with a broom, which was extremely satisfying and brought a smile to her lips when she woke up.

She sat up in bed and looked around her room, then she gave a little gasp. The morning sunlight was shining through the carved openings of the shutters, projecting a pattern across the bed near her feet. The negative space created just as delightful a design as the carvings themselves. Rose leaned forward and smoothed out the bedspread, then sat back and admired the effect.

She was aware that this was the handiwork of that perplexing gentleman who lived across the street. Well, gentleman might not be the right term, but he had an amazing talent nonetheless. Rose frowned to herself, resting her chin on her drawn up knees. If she had to come up with one word to describe him, she didn't think she could. He was a bundle of contradictions. He didn't hesitate to take care of that scorpion, and his immediate concern was for her welfare. But once there was no longer any threat, he acted like the whole thing was a tiresome inconvenience.

He could create things of beauty but then turn around and be such a churl. That in itself might not be a contradiction. Woodworking was what he was good at and it simply made him conceited. But that creativity had to come from something positive, no matter how deeply buried or smothered. Well, she was spending the day with him, maybe she'd find out. And if he was unable to make an effort to be pleasant company, she could politely excuse herself.

Rose threw off the covers and got out of bed. She crossed the room and opened up the wardrobe, staring at the clothes hanging there. She certainly hadn't expected to go on a date, something she hadn't done in years. She wasn't even sure if this outing qualified as such, but she still felt obliged to look nice. She hadn't packed too much, just what she thought would be sufficient. She considered the floral print dress for a few minutes, then she sighed and decided on the more sedate dusty pink blouse and grey wool skirt combination.

The hotel's dining room and small kitchen were still works in progress, for which both Atash and Pashmina apologized, but Rose didn't mind having her breakfast in the garden. It was a little cool, but she wrapped her new wool shawl around her shoulders and lingered over her flatbread, prickly pear jelly, coffee, and a copy of the _Ishval Courier_. According to Atash, the paper had started a couple of years ago as a school project by the senior class prompted by a discussion of responsible journalism, on which the school's headmaster had strong opinions. A small group of graduates went on to establish an actual office. As newspapers went, it was on the thin side, but it was fairly substantive, complete with wire service stories from around Amestris. There were also articles of local interest, but Atash had joked that there was hardly any need to print those, considering the speed at which gossip spread around Ishval.

Rose glanced at her wristwatch. By now it was ten minutes past ten. She didn't expect Stanno to be on the dot, and she was content to wait, just not for too long. She had pretty much exhausted the paper, but it did have the _East City Herald's _crossword puzzle printed in it. She was about to go inside to get a pencil when Stanno stepped out into the garden.

Rose very nearly did a double take. It was evident that he had taken pains with his appearance and there was a subtle drama in the difference. He was freshly shaven, which made him look younger. His clothes were clean and even pressed. Since he lived alone, he must have had to either ask someone very nicely to do his laundry or pay them a decent sum. His hair was tidier than the day before, tousled just enough to look gently rakish. Rose felt flattered.

"Good morning," Stanno said in a pleasant tone. He gestured to one of the other chairs. "May I join you?"

Considering it was his hotel, it was nice of him to ask. "Yes, of course!"

"Did you sleep well?" Stanno asked as he sat down.

"Yes, I did," Rose replied, then added, "I never thanked you last night. For killing that scorpion."

Stanno looked slightly surprised, then waved his hand. "I just acted on instinct," he said, which Rose couldn't help thinking was not necessarily a mark in his favor, considering how else he had acted. "I hate those damn things! I asked Bozidar—he's the chief priest—what Ishvala was thinking when he set scorpions on the earth. 'To keep us humble,' he told me. Those warrior priests can take your head off with one good kick. But if they find a scorpion in the temple, they coax it into a bucket and carry it outside." Stanno shook his head in bemusement. "I ask you!"

Being a little unsure what his point was and feeling rather done with the subject of scorpions, Rose said, "So what are you going to show me today?"

Stanno lifted his shoulders. "Uh…well—"

"Here we are!" Atash strode out into the garden carrying a large basket. "Pashmina packed this for you before she left for school." He set the basket on the table.

The carpenter frowned at it. "What is that?"

Rose lifted the cloth cover. "It's a picnic!" she said with delight.

"Pashmina brought one of her auntie's rugs for you to sit on, too," Atash went on. "For when you go down to the river."

Rose smiled at Stanno. "What a lovely idea!"

By the somewhat clueless look on Stanno's face, it was obvious that the idea was not his.

**888**

"You did this, didn't you?"

Rose gazed in wonder at the temple door. The admiration in her voice was gratifying, and Stanno's first instinct was to swell with smug pride and sing his own praises. But he just nodded. "Uh-huh."

In a moment of—well, not clarity, perhaps, but something a little cloudier—it occurred to him that he should keep the boasting to a minimum. This left him at a loss as to what to say, which Rose seemed to take as modesty. She smiled at him, which should have been gratifying as well. She had a nice smile. But he felt oddly uncomfortable.

Women were creatures who existed on the same plane as him but still seemed to occupy their own world. When he was younger he never gave them any truly deep consideration. They were a means to an end. The only one who had stood out was Rada, and that had ended in failure and humiliation. The sight of her had since stopped feeling like a shard of glass in his brain, but she would always represent all the things that he had failed to achieve.

Amestrian women were even more alien. During the Exile they had looked on him with contempt. He, the last of the noble house of Dreva and a master craftsman, was just a dirty down-and-out Ishvalan refugee. A day-laborer. Sub-human.

His fortunes had improved, but his opinion of women and Amestrians had taken a little longer to rise. So why he felt so eager to impress this woman was a mystery to him. Even with the less than sterling image she must have of him so far, she still treated him with courtesy. It wasn't that sort of patronizing, superior, see-how-much-better-than-you-I-am kind of politeness, either. She was probably like this to everyone. She was a lot like Rada that way. Normally, Stanno had a fair amount of contempt for that sort of sunny optimism—it certainly wasn't what had attracted him to Rada back then.

"I recognized your work," Rose went on. She lightly ran her fingers over one of the leaves of the tree carved into the door.

Stanno had spent a long time on those doors. He had done a lot of soul searching and had put a lot of himself in each detail, each groove, angle, leaf, and flower. Rose brushing her fingertips against them felt like an intimate gesture.

_Saahad _Bozidar chose that moment to step out through the doors of the temple, and Stanno quickly looked down at his feet with a slight scowl. His face had suddenly grown warm, and the perceptive old priest might easily be able to read his thoughts in his face, thoughts he should probably not be entertaining on the porch of the temple.

"Good morning!" Bozidar greeted them. He stepped up to Rose. "You must be our visitor."

Rose turned to him. Stanno glanced up again and noted what he thought was a faint caution in Rose's demeanor. But then she smiled. "Yes, I am. I guess it's true that news travels fast here."

Bozidar gave a quiet laugh. "Gossip always gets home before you do, or so it's said."

Stanno moved closer. "This is Rose Thomas, _Saahad_, from Liore," he said. To Rose he said, "This is our chief priest, Bozidar."

Bozidar held his hand out to Rose. "From Liore, you say?"

"Yes…um…sir," Rose said, shaking his hand.

Bozidar gave a nod. "Your city had a great trial, from all accounts."

Rose looked away, turning back to the carvings on the door. "We certainly did."

Stanno studied her profile. She was gazing thoughtfully at the carved designs but her thoughts seemed like they might be elsewhere. When she spoke again, her voice was bitter, which sounded strange coming from her. "I sure got caught up in it. Up to my neck."

Bozidar didn't seem surprised. "How so?" the old priest prompted gently.

Rose hesitated before replying, then the words spilled out. "I was promised that my dead boyfriend would be brought back to life, and I completely fell for it!" She faced Bozidar, almost accusingly. "Please tell me you don't make promises like that!"

Bozidar regarded her with kind concern. "No, child, I don't. Even if such a thing were possible, what has gone to God belongs to God."

Rose searched the old man's face as though to assure herself of his sincerity. Stanno could have told her that Bozidar was nothing if not utterly genuine, so much so that Stanno, cynic that he was, found the man somewhat disconcerting. But he was feeling ignored so he didn't offer his opinion.

Rose looked away, apparently satisfied with what she saw but not necessarily cheered by it. After contemplating the door once more for a few moments, she gave a slight nod, a small frown on her face. "So, no crazy miracles?"

"Crazy?" Bozidar mused with a smile. "I do not claim to perform miracles myself." He patted Rose on the shoulder as he moved away toward the steps. "But that doesn't mean they don't happen."

Rose turned to consider the old priest as he descended the steps and made his way down the street. "He doesn't seem like the kind of person who would kick someone's head off."

Stanno shrugged, assuming that she was addressing him and not just thinking out loud. "I don't know that he ever has." He smirked. "If he did, you can be sure he'd be polite about it."

8888

Stanno didn't go down to the river that much. He certainly didn't drag along a rug and a basket of food. A bottle of _halmi _or a couple of bottles of beer were enough company. Often, his solitude would be disturbed by young couples escaping supervision, and he would imply somewhat severely that their parents or aunts or uncles or whoever's supervision they were trying to escape would hear about it. He never actually went to the trouble, but it was amusing to see the embarrassed kids take fright and scurry off. He hoped none of those young folk would happen by on this particular day. What he was doing and in whose company he was doing it were none of their damn business.

Stanno had hired a rickshaw to take them down to the river. Along the way, they rolled through fields of ripened grains and produce that were being harvested. Stanno explained how these crops were run as a kind of collective and had become a generous source of income. The economy of Ishval was growing steadily healthier as a result. Rose seemed a little subdued, only partly listening to what he was telling her, which, admittedly, was probably boring. He attributed her mood to her conversation with Bozidar. He was fairly sure it wasn't because of anything he'd done.

By the time they reached the river, Rose had perked up somewhat. The puller was told to come back for them in a couple of hours. That was Rose's idea. At first, Stanno gave a mental cringe, just out of habit. _Two hours?_ Then he considered the situation. Pashmina had packed a pretty decent lunch, probably to please Rose. But she also packed a couple of bottles of beer. Maybe that was Atash's idea. He was tempted to thank the kid when they got back.

Then there was Rose herself. Stanno watched her from where he sat in the shade of a cottonwood tree. She waded out into the water up to her ankles, the hem of her skirt gathered up in one hand just above her knees to keep it from getting wet. She certainly wasn't lifting her skirt for his benefit, but he appreciated the view.

She made a few desultory kicks with her right foot, splashing up a little water.

"I should have packed my swimsuit," she remarked with some regret.

Stanno gave a slight start, which went unnoticed. _Ishvala, that'd be a sight! _he thought, regretting Rose's oversight more than she did.

"Maybe next time," he suggested.

Rose glanced over her shoulder at him with a little half smile. She shrugged. "Maybe." She took a few steps away, the water rising to her calves. The Halik, having accomplished its summer task of flooding the fields, had ebbed to its late fall state, flowing smoothly along to join the Beaufort many miles to the west. Rose pointed toward the deeper water. "There's a fish! A speckled trout, I think."

"Probably," Stanno replied. "They started stocking those a while ago, then some other kind of trout showed up. They swam upstream from the Beaufort, so I've heard. Must be something about the Halik that they like." He gave a short laugh. "After a thousand years, there are fish in Ishval again. We wouldn't know what the hell to do with them if it hadn't been for the Exile. Food was hard to come by and some of us learned how to tickle trout."

Rose waded over to a large rock that was sunk into the bank. She reached down into the water in the shade of the rock and fished out two beer bottles. "These should be cold enough." She made her way back up the bank to where Stanno sat and handed him the bottles, then she sat on the rug. She rummaged through the basket that sat between them and produced a bottle opener, handing it to Stanno.

He popped off the tops and handed Rose one of the bottles. "_Ho'avaat_."

Rose took the bottle and raised it slightly. "Cheers." She took a swallow and gazed out at the river. "My boyfriend, Patrick, was big on fly fishing."

"Oh, that's the fancy stuff, using a pole."

Rose gave a laugh. Then her smile faded a little. "He kept asking me to go with him, but I kept saying maybe next time. Then there wasn't a next time."

The people Stanno knew had died ugly deaths, and he had heard more stories than he cared to. But he found himself feeling flattered by Rose being so open with him. "What happened? Was he a soldier?"

Rose shook her head. "He worked on a farm just outside Liore. He and another fellow were changing the head on a combine. The other guy slipped and the head landed on Patrick."

Stanno drew in a quiet hiss. During the Exile, he had done a few days' work on a farm in the southwest, filling in for some poor bastard who had died in a similar fashion. It wasn't a pretty story. Being nothing more than an Ishvalan tramp to his fellow farmhands, he could easily picture them dropping some heavy equipment on top of him just for laughs. He didn't stay there long. "That's a damn shame," he said simply.

Rose acknowledged his condolence with a nod. "It was a shock, that's for sure. It wasn't long after that that Cornello opened up that fake church of his and…well, you heard," she said wearily. "Not one of my prouder moments."

People like Rose and Rada and Bozidar always seemed to have a lower tolerance for their own shortcomings than someone like Stanno, who had stopped counting. It could get annoying. "Don't be so hard on yourself," he said, a little more impatiently than he meant to. Rose gave him a surprised look, not unlike the look she had given him the night before. He wasn't going to apologize this time, but he amended his tone. "I have a lot more moments that I'm not proud of than you do, I'm sure."

Rose gave a slight shrug. "Maybe," she muttered. She sounded like she was trying to be charitable.

Stanno inclined his head. "You're too kind, _Zhaarana_. Anyway…" She had done him the favor of being candid, not to mention showing off her knees. He ought to reciprocate somehow. "I lost the woman I was going to marry, so I know what that can lead to do."

"Oh…"Rose mused over this for a moment as though it explained a lot. "I'm sorry. Did she die in the war?"

"Oh, she's not dead," Stanno replied. "I lost her to another man." He turned to meet the look Rose was giving him. "I daresay you're not surprised."

Rose gave a guilty little start. "I didn't say that."

"No, but you thought it. That's all right." Rose was still watching him, probably curious but too polite to be obvious about it. He smiled slightly. "Not _my_ proudest moment. You see, you lost your young man and went on to do something stupid. I did something stupid and lost my girl."

Rose's pretense of hiding her curiosity was gone and she regarded him with an honest gaze. "What happened?"

Stanno met her violet eyes for a moment, then looked away, his heart sinking just a little. Being honest was a hard, tiring game that shouldn't be played unguarded, not with his sort of odds. He gave a quiet laugh. "Here I am, trying to get you to think I'm not such a bad fellow. Maybe if I can convince you of that, I'll tell you."

Then again, maybe it would snow.

**888**

It wasn't until nearly nine o'clock that Rose returned to her hotel. The remainder of her outing had been...perplexing. But considering who she was with, it couldn't have been anything else. The fact that she could sum it up as being a pleasant day was even more perplexing.

Salar, the young man with the rickshaw, came back for them and they headed back into town. Stanno showed her around the marketplace in Daliha, which didn't differ much from the one in Kanda, except for the chants sung by the vendors. The singing would start in one spot, then ripple along like a wave from one stall to another. Sometimes it would bounce back and forth across the street. Rose could easily stand in the middle of the marketplace for hours and just listen. Stanno, to whom this must be commonplace, let her take her time.

He took her to dinner at a small establishment at the northern end of the Kanda marketplace, a "nice" restaurant by Ishvalan standards. This was a slightly new concept in Ishval, being neither a street vendor nor a tavern, and it bore a certain Amestrian influence. They did serve alcohol: beer and wine, which were imported, as well as a liquor called _halmi_, which was a local product. Rose tried a sip of it straight and wasn't impressed, but the proprietor suggested she try it with some fruit juice. That went down rather well.

There seemed to be an unpsoken agreement between the two of them not to pursue the conversation they had started. She was intrigued, but she felt she should respect the man's privacy, especially since he was making such an effort to be a gracious and considerate host. Even while keeping away from certain subjects, they maintained an easy flow of talk. Stanno asked Rose about herself, and she obliged, telling him much more than he volunteered about himself. After dinner he walked her back to the hotel, thanked her for her company, bade her a pleasant good night, and left. It was fairly clear that he was putting on an act, admittedly a good one, very nearly convincing her that he was, in fact, "not such a bad fellow." But she felt a little hurt that he had shut the door on anymore glimpses of what must have been his real self. She wasn't entirely convinced that it was so bad.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

"…my auntie came and got me so I didn't even see her when she got back but Atash asked her how it went and she just said fine and just sort of smiled and in the morning _I _asked her how it went and she still said fine and I asked her that's all just fine did he try to get fresh and she said oh no not at all." Pashmina paused for breath. "I'd have asked her more, but I had to get to school."

"Well," _Saahad _Imir said, "I know they stopped by the temple yesterday morning. And my brother told me that the fellow who opened that _restaurant_"—he pronounced the word a little jokingly, since there was no corresponding word in Ishvalan—"told him that they had dinner there. He said he practically knows the lady's life story now from what he overheard."

"_I _made up a basket of food for them and they took it down to the river and they were there for two hours _all by themselves_!"

"Really?"

"I wonder if he kissed her?" Pashmina mused intently.

Imir cleared his throat softly. "Well, that really would be between them."

Pashmina rolled her eyes. "Well, of _course_ it would, _Saahad_! You wouldn't catch _me_ joining in!"

"That's not what I—"

"Gossip, _Saahad_?"

Both teacher and student gave a start, Imir's being much guiltier than Pashmina's.

Scar regarded his colleague with a reproving look. "Distractions like that can cost you. You should have known I was approaching."

Imir drew himself up. "I knew you were there."

"No, you didn't," Pashmina chuckled under her breath.

Imir jerked his chin impatiently at her. "Run along to class, _laleh_!"

"There's still five more minutes!"

"Then just run along!"

"_Tch!_" With a toss of her hair, Pashmina trotted off to find someone else to share her speculations with.

"Don't encourage that sort of thing, Imir!" Scar chided him. "This is a school, not the marketplace!"

"Oh, come down off your high holy place, Andakar!" Imir gave him a shove against his shoulder. "You're starting to sound like old Ahirom, Ishvala rest his rigid soul."

Scar took a quick glance around to make sure no one was looking, then shoved him back. "I am _not_!"

"Then take care that you don't, or you'll be generally despised." Imir grinned. "We're still human, my friend, and Ishvala loves us despite our faults. But it's not a sin to take an interest in the welfare of our fellow humans."

"An unseemly interest?"

Imir waved his hand. "Well, that's subjective. Listen!" He poked Scar in the chest. "This is _Stanno_ we're talking about, as well as our Amestrian visitor, whom I haven't had the pleasure of meeting yet but who sounds like a nice girl. Don't tell me that this situation isn't worth keeping an eye on."

"Maybe." Scar conceded. "But she's only staying a week, so I don't really see much of a situation developing, God willing." A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. "Then you'll have to find something else to gossip about."

**888**

Stanno drew his hand across the lid of the cedar chest before him and smiled. Smooth as glass, too fine to spoil with a lot of carving. What he'd done around the edges was fine, just enough to keep those rich Amestrians in mind of where these pieces came from. This one had been commissioned by the Armstrong family, who were absolutely rolling. They had conducted business by telegraph, and when Stanno let them know his price, which he had marked up as high as even his conscience would allow, they wired back _Splendid! Such a bargain! _While he was kicking himself, two more commissions came in quick succession, friends of the Armstrongs. His reputation as a craftsman was finally going nationwide. At this rate, he might even recover the money he'd sunk into the hotel.

He looked up to cast a sour glance across the street at the hotel just as Rose was stepping out of its front door and his heart did a flip-flop.

_Hello. What?_

Not since he was in school, not since he first started noticing girls, had he experienced a sensation like that. Up to a certain age he was perfectly happy to be segregated from the girls' side of the room, surrounded by his fellow males and separated by an aisle that was not crossed. The practice was meant to minimize distraction, and Andakar was continuing the tradition—for the sake of tradition, apparently. But when they all started getting a little older, there was plenty of distraction. When the teacher wasn't looking, sly glances would be cast back and forth across the aisle and even the occasional note. It was the thrill of doing something forbidden, but it had a much subtler attraction than simple mischief like climbing onto the school's roof.

He was full of himself even then, but he was still fresh and innocent. He never thought a sensation like that, which seemed so daring and wicked then, could now seem so…pure. Then again, that shouldn't have come as a surprise, considering his dealings with women later on.

He hadn't expected to enjoy the previous day's outing as much as he did. Apart from one or two tricky moments, he didn't think he'd made too bad a showing of himself, all in all. He didn't think he had anything to worry about as far as complaints reaching Shua's ears, but Shua's opinion didn't seem to matter much anymore. Even after not making the best first impression on her, Rose still took him at face value. She did that with everyone, he noticed, but he particularly appreciated it. And as far as he could tell, it wasn't because she thought he was pathetic and she was just being charitable. She wasn't familiar with his past, either, for which he was grateful. God willing, she wouldn't find out.

He hadn't expected to enjoy listening to her talk, either, or rather, _watching_ her talk. Her eyes glowed or clouded to reflect the emotions behind her stories, and her pale pink lips danced over her white teeth. He wasn't all that interested in her upbringing or her home town or her job or her boss, but his interest grew as the evening progressed, and he encouraged her to elaborate just for the pleasure of watching her face.

Rose began to cross the street toward him, and he managed to wipe the schoolboy gawk off his face before she was close enough to notice.

"So," she began, stopping before his workshop and peering into it with curious interest. "This is where it all happens."

Stanno glanced over his shoulder at his surroundings. The shop was generally neat, but not for any sense of aesthetics. He took jealous care of his tools and equipment and he kept the place swept so sawdust wouldn't get stuck to wet varnish or oil finishes.

He nodded. "So it is."

Rose looked down at the chest he was working on. "Ooh, is that cedar?" she asked. "Can I smell it?"

Stanno opened the lid. "Help yourself."

Rose moved around beside him and bent down, breathing in the rich aroma of the wood. "I _love_ that smell! I have an old hope chest that my grandmother left me, but it doesn't smell half as nice as this."

"Could be Western cedar," Stanno replied. "I won't work with anything but Ishvalan cedar."

Rose straightened up. "Cedar grows out here?"

"Way up in the mountains." Stanno nodded in a roughly eastern direction. "There's pine up there as well. It's a long drive, and it's a rough road up the mountainside, but it's worth it. And there's oak in the foothills. And of course there's what's left of the ruins of Old Ishval out there."

Rose's eyes lit up. "_Really_?"

Stanno nodded. "For ages, it was considered bad luck to go near them. Now they're talking about digging them up. A bunch from Central University is supposed to be coming out here next year to get that started."

"You mean archeologists? _That _sounds exciting!"

"I suppose. Of course there are some folks who feel we should leave well enough alone," Stanno went on. "They think we'll be tempting Ishvala's wrath." He waved his hand dismissively. "I've driven along there enough times to get to my trees, and I don't think I've suffered any by it." On the other hand, it could explain rather a lot, but he kept that to himself.

"It must be gorgeous out there!" Rose breathed wistfully. "I wish I could see it!"

Stanno looked down at the chest before him. He had already lost a day's work yesterday. He didn't regret it, but he couldn't afford to lose more time. "I wish I could take you. But I have to get these chests shipped out."

"Oh, that's too bad." Rose sounded genuinely disappointed. "Maybe next time."

"Is there going to be a next time?" Stanno felt a twinge of relief that she didn't consider getting someone else to take her.

Rose nodded. "Oh, I think so! I'd love to learn more about this place. I thought it was all just desert out here."

Stanno glanced at her with a mildly mocking look. "What the average Amestrian doesn't know about Ishval could fill a library," he said, then added, "No offense."

Rose waved a hand. "Oh, none taken. I admit my share of ignorance." She smiled. "But that's what traveling is all about, broadening your mind. You know, it's funny," she mused.

"What is?"

"I thought it would be so different here, and it is, but in a lot of ways, it isn't," Rose said. "I mean, people don't vary that much. No, that's not quite right. They do, but…" She frowned slightly for a moment. "I guess I mean to say that I don't feel so much like an outsider here, and I really thought I would. I thought there might be a feeling of, you know, resentment against Amestrians."

Stanno rested his palms on the knees and considered Rose for a moment. "Well, there's Amestrians, and then there's Amestrians. It's fair to say that Ishvalans are still a little touchy." He paused, preparing himself to pay a sincere compliment without making it sound hollow. "You're a good person, _Zhaarana_. You didn't come barging in trying to take the place over, and you're not sobbing about feeling guilty. You're just…" Whatever gift of glibness he had finally failed him and he gave what he felt was a lame conclusion. "You're just you."

To his surprise, Rose smiled, looking pleased and a little surprised herself. "What a nice thing to say!"

_Thank Ishvala for that!_ Stanno lifted his shoulders a little in modest self-deprecation that wasn't particularly sincere. "Well…"

"And you don't have to call me _Zhaarana_ all the time," Rose added. "Just call me Rose, all right?"

Stanno gave a nod. That _would _be pleasant. "All right." He smiled. "So, Rose, what are your plans for today?"

"I was going to go see about picking up some postcards to send back home," Rose said. "And then I was just going to walk around, maybe to one of the other districts." She cocked her head slightly. "What about you?"

That sounded like it was full of potential, but Stanno gestured regretfully at the chest before him. "I'll be at this all day."

"Well, then, I guess I'll see you later." Rose gave him a little wave and continued on her way.

"Later, then." Stanno watched her as she walked away, playing their conversation back in his mind to see if he had said anything he would regret. He didn't think there was. Rose was surprisingly easy to talk to, but what surprised him more was how much he valued her good opinion of him _simply for its own sake_. That was a sobering thought. It made him feel old.

_Blessed Creator_, he thought, more out of desperation than reverence, _I'm not even forty yet! _

He focused on the swing of Rose's hips as she continued down the street. Very nice, indeed. No, the desire was still there. He frowned slightly. So was the slightest pang of guilt. _That_ had never been there before.

His frown deepened as Rose passed Serdar, the spice merchant. She gave him a nod, which he returned, then he, too, regarded Rose's backside as she walked away in all innocence. Stanno felt a sudden urge to stuff the man's cinnamon sticks down his throat, the bastard.

Guilt _and _jealousy. What an attractive combination. Stanno shook his head and reached down to pick up the bucket of varnish next to his stool.

It would be nice to think that Rose was bringing out something in him. Something along the lines of a better nature, something he would like to think he actually had but had shriveled up in the face of disappointment and bitterness. She wasn't going to be here long, but when she left, he wanted very much that she left thinking well of him and that he might be one of the reasons she came back. Otherwise, well, he still had his old friends, disappointment and bitterness, as company.

Not the happiest prospect.

**888**

Rose stepped into the Havoc Sundries, having been directed there in her search for postcards. It was a fairly large shop, more like a typical Amestrian general store, and it looked like business was good. There was a mix of soldiers and civilians shopping inside, and a tall blond Amestrian man with a short beard on his chin stood behind the counter chatting genially with a woman with a baby on her hip. Almost immediately, Rose recognized them both from her trip to Resembool. There were two other older children by the woman's side, a boy and a girl, about three or four years old. The boy started to dart away, but his mother called to him sharply.

"Mattas!"

The little boy halted and looked over his shoulder. His mother spoke briskly in Ishvalan and pointed firmly to the spot beside her that the boy had just vacated. The blond man chuckled and added a few words, also in Ishvalan. Rose got the impression that he had said something along the lines of "you break it, you bought it."

As if to confirm this, he followed with, "You don't want your allowance docked before you even get one."

Mattas shuffled back to his mother's side, apparently chafing under this restriction. His mother sighed and tousled his hair. Then she looked up as Rose approached the counter and she smiled.

"Hello! It's Rose, isn't it?"

Pleased at being remembered, Rose smiled back. "That's right." She looked from her to the blond man. "I remember you both from Ed and Winry's wedding."

The blond man snapped his fingers. "That's where I saw you!" He held out his hand. "Jean Havoc, at your service!"

Rose shook his hand. "It's nice to actually meet you." She turned to the mother. "I know that you're the governor's—um, _Zhaarad _Andakar's—wife."

"Rada," the mother replied, shaking Rose's proffered hand.

"I remember these two." Rose smiled down at the twins. "They sure have grown."

"Yes. Mattas and Winry." Rose nodded at them respectively. "And this one is Turyan." She bounced the little one in her arms.

Turyan gazed at Rose with a beneficent smile and extended a wet finger.

"How do you do!" Rose said cheerfully to the children.

"Hi!" Mattas practically shouted back.

Rada patted him on the head. "You're inside, sweetheart. We can hear you just fine."

"What can I help you with?" Havoc asked Rose. "We're running a special on canned goods. Buy three and get a fourth for free!"

"Actually, I was told that you have postcards," Rose said.

"I sure do." Havoc took a small revolving rack from a shelf behind him and placed it on the counter. "Just recently had 'em made. Twenty cenz each or three for fifty."

Rose perused the rack, turning it slowly. There was a postcard of the Great Temple, but the detail on the doors could barely be seen. She chose it anyway, as well as one of the Halik and one of the Kanda marketplace.

"Have you enjoyed your stay so far?" Rada asked.

"Yes, I have," Rose replied. "I was even taken on a picnic by the river yesterday by Mr. Dreva."

"How kind of him!" Rada remarked, but judging by her smile, Rose was fairly certain that she knew all about it already.

"Yes, it was rather nice of him. He took me out to dinner, too," Rose went on, although that was probably common knowledge as well. She held up the postcards. "I'll take these."

"So…what do you think of our Stanno?" Rada asked.

The question was put casually enough, but Rose thought she detected a deeper curiosity in Rada's tone. While fishing fifty cenz out of her purse, Rose thought for a moment. "He's…interesting."

"Ooh!" Havoc placed a hand over his heart. "Interesting? That's the kiss of death right there."

Rada laughed and flicked her hand at him. "Oh, hush, Jean!"

"I meant it nicely," Rose countered. "I thought he was very considerate, once he hit his stride. He's also quite an artist. His woodworking is beautiful."

Rada held up her arm, displaying a wooden bangle carved to look like a wreath of flowers. "He made this for me."

"That's lovely!" Rose exclaimed.

Rada smiled at it fondly, and Rose wondered if she didn't see a little sadness in her eyes.

The sound of booted footsteps made them turn toward the door to see Captain Kaihan of the _tagma_ enter the store.

Havoc gave him a friendly nod. "Mornin', Cap! How's law and order?"

Kaihan spread his hands. "Well cared for!" His eye fell on Rose and his smile broadened. "Ah, _Zhaarana_! I was wondering when I'd run into you again! Our good chieftain of Kanda has been playing host, I hear."

Rose smiled back. "Who hasn't?"

Kaihan chuckled. "Well, that's Ishval for you. But chieftain though he may be, it's unfair of him to keep you to himself."

"Oh…" Rose shrugged. "He hasn't, really."

"Well, that's good," Kaihan replied. "Because there's a very fine tavern in the north end of the Kanda marketplace that would be that much finer with you in it."

Rose heard a snicker come from Havoc's direction and she felt herself go pink. "That's…very nice of you to say that."

Kaihan inclined his head with a handsome grace. "I'd be happy to take you there this evening after my rounds." He grinned, his teeth brilliant against his tawny skin. "What do you say?"

Rose started to open her mouth, but Rada cut in briskly. "Oh, but she's dining with us tonight, Captain! We were just talking about it before you came in!"

Rose gave her a surprised look, and Rada stared back at her with a wide-eyed, earnest gaze and a big smile. It seemed deeply important—to Rada, anyway—and Rose found herself giving Kaihan an apologetic smile.

"Maybe another time?"

Kaihan seemed to deflate just a little, but he took it well. "Fair enough. Tomorrow, perhaps?"

Rose nodded. "Perhaps."

"Tomorrow, then." He gave a little bow and left the store.

Rose turned back to Rada, who spoke quickly. "I really did mean to invite you! Honestly!"

"Well, thank you!" Rose smiled. "It's not every day I get asked to dine at the governor's mansion."

Rada laughed. "It's not a mansion, believe me! And Andakar will be delighted to have you."

After expressing her thanks once more, Rose asked where the post office was. Havoc informed her that it was just a few doors down and she left the store. She stopped at a stall that sold tea and ordered a cup while she wrote on the back of the postcard of the Halik.

_**Dear Suzanne,**_

_**I went for a picnic right next to this river with an interesting Ishvalan gentleman. And no, I don't mean anything sinister by "interesting."**_

_**Love, Rose**_

On the postcard with the Great Temple, she wrote,

_**Dear Willy,**_

_**This building seems to house a lot more integrity than our old pal Leto could ever hope for. My hotel room, however, had a scorpion in it, which is now dead. I'm fine. I'll be home Sunday night. I hope you're bearing up under the strain.**_

_**Love, Rose**_

**888**

Havoc put Rada's purchases in her basket for her. "So what was that all about, anyway?"

"Whatever do you mean?" Rada asked innocently.

Havoc smirked. "Don't give me that. Kaihan's an okay joe. What made you put one over on him?"

"I didn't put anything over on anyone _Mr. _Havoc!" Rada replied primly. "I wanted to invite Rose to my house before it got too close to the weekend and I'd be too busy getting ready for the festival."

"Oh. Okay." Havoc grinned and handed her the basket. "My mistake."

* * *

**The reference to the "ruins of Old Ishval" is something I thought of recently. I intend to insert other references to it in my other stories, particularly Sons of the Desert, which I am in the process of editing to add other stuff like that.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Scar could govern his people with what he hoped was wisdom, common sense, and a deep respect for tradition. Trying to maintain order by these means in his own home over four rambunctious children was not always successful. The battlefield of the supper table had reached a truce between some semblance of rudimentary discipline, domestic harmony, and getting people fed. Family and close friends knew what to expect. Much to her credit, Rose was easily able to balance being children's newest plaything and having an adult conversation.

"Rose, have some more _khushuei_," Rada said, passing her the bowl of roasted vegetable salad.

"Thank you!" Rose spooned more of the salad onto her plate. "This is delicious! Could you give me the recipe?"

"Of course!" Rada smiled, pleased. "You could serve it at your lunch counter!"

"You bet I will!" Rose scooped up some of the salad with a piece of flatbread and pushed it into her mouth as smoothly as any Ishvalan. Swallowing her mouthful, she added, "Our customers have gotten a little more used to vegetable dishes. Meat was a little scarce while we were getting ourselves back together. I had to get pretty inventive."

She picked up her cup of tea, looking down at the clear spot on the table the cup had left. Running her fingers over the carving of a flower, she said, "This must be another one of Stanno's pieces."

"Yes, it is," Rada replied. "But we're starting to outgrow it. I spoke to Stanno about building us a bigger one, and I hoped to have it by the festival, but he'd already started on those cedar chests."

"Which are beautiful, by the way!" Rose put in.

"Yes, he certainly throws himself into his work," Rada said.

"At the right price," Scar said under his breath.

Rada gave him a nudge. "Shh!"

Rose just gave a hint of a smile and said, "He was telling me how he has to drive up into the mountains to get native cedar. Oh, and he told me about the ruins of old Ishval that are out there. You're going to excavate them?"

Scar nodded. "We are. The idea met with resistance at first."

"Yes, Stanno mentioned that, too! He said that there are some who think you're courting disaster," Rose said.

"Like _baata _Zulema," Danika chuckled.

"Who?" Rose asked.

"She's a distant cousin of Colonel Miles," Rada explained.

"And she's re-e-eally old!" Danika added matter-of-factly. "She remembers lots and lots of old stuff, like how things were when she was a girl." She chuckled again. "She thinks we're all wicked."

"She thinks we court disaster on a regular basis," Scar agreed. "The Great Earthquake was a crushing blow in every respect, even worse than the War of Extermination, even worse than what happened to Xerxes. It isn't too hard to imagine how our ancestors thought themselves and their land cursed." He sat forward, warming to his subject. "But those ruins can tell us so much about our history. Up until now, our records have been limited to what survived not just the earthquake, but the war. Take our harvest festival, for example. We had always observed a holy day at this time, but nothing like the celebration that took place in ancient times. It was the Xingese that supplied much of what we now know."

"Really?" Rose suddenly perked up. "Oh! The emperor of Xing was at Ed and Winry's wedding!"

"He was. That's how I learned of the chronicles kept by Xingese merchants and diplomats who travelled to Ishval. The emperor was kind enough to send copies of what is a very extensive history. We haven't even gotten through all of it yet. But that is what has motivated us to search for our history ourselves."

"That's got to be a huge job!" Rose observed.

"It's likely to take many years," Scar said.

Rose nodded. "It'll probably be great for local business," she mused.

Scar raised an eyebrow. "You _have _been spending a lot of time with Stanno."

"Andakar!" Rada chided him in a hushed, slightly scandalized voice.

Rose, however, took it well. She even gave a little laugh. "Well, maybe I have, but I know what it's like to try and get a beat-up economy back on its feet." She gave Scar a shrewd look. "I'm getting the impression that Stanno is not one of your favorite people."

Scar paused and reached for an olive from a plate on the table. He was sorely tempted to give Rose what he felt was fair warning, but it might simply sound spiteful, even to him. Besides, despite his distaste for gossip and the fact that the idea rubbed him the wrong way, he was, in his own way, intrigued. Whatever might _develop, _as Imir put it, should develop without any prompting or discouragement from him. Not to mention that he could practically feel Rada silently daring him to say so much as a word.

He just gave a slight shrug. "I've known him nearly all my life, so I suppose we have some history."

"And _some_ history doesn't need to be dug up," Rada said pleasantly but rather firmly.

**888**

Scar joined Rada in the garden where she sat on the bench along the wall. He draped the shawl he had gone inside to get for her over her shoulders and then sat beside her. She leaned against him as he put his arm around her.

"I _like _Rose!" Rada said determinedly. "I only just got to know her today and I like her so much already!"

"She has a kind soul," Scar agreed.

"_And _she's pretty!" Rada went on. "And she's smart on top of that!"

Scar just nodded and they both fell silent for a while. He was certain that they must both be thinking about the same thing. He supposed it wouldn't technically be gossip if it was just between them.

"She's too good for him," he remarked.

Rada gave him a gentle push with her shoulder. "What difference does that make? She'd _be_ goodfor him."

"So would a well-placed kick in the backside." Scar shook his head. "He'd make her life a misery. He's good at that."

Rada let out an impatient little huff. "You have to admit, he's gotten better."

"If you mean he's gone from being a misbegotten spawn of a _jhavahal_ to something resembling a human, then I suppose I could admit that. Barely."

Rada waved away her husband's remark. "What he needs is someone to…" She frowned slightly for a moment, then said, "…to inspire him! Someone he needs to strive for instead of just expecting her to fall into his arms if he so much as smiles at her."

"Like you did?" Scar remarked, then flinched as Rada gave him a sharp jab in the ribs. He laughed quietly. "Sorry, my love. I deserved that."

"You did! Andakar, if I can be forgiving toward Stanno, so can you!"

Scar sighed. "Your capacity for forgiveness is much greater than mine." He inclined his head. "But I bow to your better nature."

"That's good," Rada said contentedly. "Because I'm right about those two. I'm sure of it." She turned a little to face Scar. "She kept bringing him up. 'Stanno said this' and 'Stanno was telling me that.' To me, that's a sign that she's looking for approval."

"Mm…perhaps."

"_I _think she's exactly what Stanno needs!" Rada declared. "And I _think_ I have all the right in the world to say that!"

As much as he was tempted to do so, Scar couldn't entirely argue with that. Perhaps she had a point. "But how long will it take Stanno to realize this for himself? Rose is only staying here for a week."

"A lot can happen in a week." Rada giggled with satisfaction and snuggled back against her husband. "I didn't ask her over just to be hospitable, I'll have you know. I wanted to get her away from Captain Kaihan, who was trying to chat her up."

Scar let out a laugh and tightened his arm around her shoulders. "You interfering little busybody."

**888**

After closing up his shop, Stanno went across to the hotel and stepped into the lobby. Pashmina was just coming down the stairs with an armful of linen and nearly ran into him.

"Ooh, _Zhaarad_!" she exclaimed in exasperation. "You keep slipping in here so quiet that I don't notice you're there!"

Stanno waved off her remark. "Is Rose in?" he asked, nodding toward the stairs.

Pashmina smiled a little smile that Stanno wasn't sure how to interpret. "As a matter of fact, she isn't," the girl replied. "She's gone over to _Zhaarad _Andakar's house for dinner."

Stanno felt a chill grip his insides. "Why?" he demanded.

Pashmina gave him a curious look and shrugged. "To eat dinner, I suppose. _Zhaarana _Rada asked her this morning when they met over at Havoc's." She said the name to mean the store itself, as it had come to be commonly called, not the proprietor.

Stanno was visited by feelings of dread and injustice. He was about to ask Pashmina when Rose would be back, but he decided simply to leave.

The girl followed him to the door. "Do you want me to tell her you asked after her?" she called as he strode out into the street.

"No."

It wasn't any of her business. It wasn't anyone else's business, damn them all! Stanno went around to the back of his house and unlocked the back door. He slammed it closed behind him and turned into his kitchen to light the lantern he kept by the sink. He preferred to reserve electricity for his workshop. He carried the lantern to light his way upstairs, mounting the steps in a mood of sullen resentment.

As hard as he tried to push it from his mind, he was certain that Rose would be entertained all evening with lurid tales of all his shortcomings. For all his noble ideals, Andakar was a man who took vengeance seriously.

What would Rada say? Yes, she was kind and friendly when she greeted him, but no one could be that forgiving. It certainly wasn't in _his_ nature. It took him a long time to realize the scope of the mistake he made when he rejected Rada all those years ago. He suffered regret rather than remorse. For a time, he harbored the fantasy that fate had been different, that Rada was his and that he made her happy. It made him miserable.

Stanno turned and went back downstairs to the kitchen to retrieve the bottle of _halmi_ that was sitting on the table. He carried it back upstairs to his bedroom and sat down on the bed. Pulling the cork from the bottle, he took a swallow from it and set it on the table beside the bed. He sat back against the wall and stared glumly at the opposite wall.

He had become a spectator of life rather than a participant. He concentrated on his craft, the one thing at which he excelled. He did what he thought was his duty as chieftain of Kanda. He stopped trying to conjure up scenes of domestic bliss, either with Rada or anyone else. Second chances happened to other people.

He had briefly thought otherwise after Rose arrived. Here was not just a fresh face, but a pretty one. Someone who didn't know him. Someone who didn't know what a fool he had made of himself. Even after he intimated a little about his past, she wasn't repulsed. He would have told her the rest eventually. Probably. After he'd gotten her to like him. But after tonight, that slim, nebulous hope would be gone. He picked up his bottle and took a long drink. He was done fooling himself. To hell with the lot of them.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

There were workmen laying tile in what would soon be a functional kitchen. From her table in the garden, Rose could hear the muffled sound of their voices mingling with music from the radio Atash had recently purchased for the lobby. A popular tune was playing at the moment, one of those insipidly catchy songs that get stuck in your head. Rose found it just a little annoying and was half-tempted to ask Atash to change the station. But when it reached the chorus, Rose could hear Atash and the workmen joining in. They sang loudly in Ishvalan and then burst out laughing, leading Rose to believe that they had made up their own words, very likely something bawdy. Rose smiled to herself, her peace of mind restored, although she wondered what some of these young men's elders might think.

Her vacation was about halfway over now, not yet at the point where she had to start thinking about packing up. She definitely wasn't ready for that. She was enjoying herself too much, more than she ever thought she would. She had yet another dinner invitation for this evening, this one from Pashmina's aunt Nenya, which surprised Rose a little, considering they'd met only once. Atash said it was Pashmina's idea, but Auntie Nenya was all for it. Atash also remarked that Rose simply had a way about her.

The ringing clip-clop of hooves could be heard from the street side of the hotel. Rose glanced with mild curiosity toward the door that led out into the garden, then returned to her paper. She tapped her chin lightly with her pencil and scowled as she considered the clue for 17-down of that day's crossword. _Too buoyant to be ironed twice? _You always had to be careful about clues that ended with a question mark. It was usually some type of silly pun or something. A few minutes later, Atash stepped out into the garden, followed by the _tagma_ officer, Captain Kaihan. He was not in uniform, dressed in casual Ishvalan clothing and boots and wearing a boyish grin. Rose looked back at 17-down and wrote in _irrepressible._

"You've got a visitor, _Zhaarana _Rose," Atash announced.

Rose put down her copy of the _Ishval Courier_. "So I see. Good morning, Captain!" she greeted him.

Kaihan spread his hands to indicate his manner of dress. "I'm off duty today, _Zhaarana._ It's just Kaihan."

"Well, then, it's just Rose." She looked past Kaihan to Atash. "Really, that goes for you, too, Atash."

The young man shook his head with solemn dignity. "Oh, I couldn't do that. _Zhaarad _Shua wouldn't like it."

Rose sighed and shrugged. "Okay. I wouldn't want to get you in trouble." She turned back to Kaihan. "Would you like some tea or something?"

"I wouldn't say no." Kaihan sat at the table with her. "I did hurry over here."

"Could you get another cup, please, Atash?" Rose asked.

Atash almost looked like he didn't quite approve, and he turned to go back inside with a slight shake of his head. Rose propped her chin on her hand and smiled at the captain.

"So what made you hurry over here?"

Kaihan gave a meek little duck to his head. "Well, firstly, I came to apologize."

Rose's eyebrows went up. "Why? What did you do?"

"You must have thought I was being awfully forward when I spoke to you at Havoc's yesterday," Kaihan explained.

Rose laughed easily. "It's all right. It was very flattering."

Kaihan grew just a little serious. "That's as may be, _Zha—" _He caught himself and grinned. "—Rose. If I spoke to an Ishvalan girl like that, I'd hear about it, from her father or her auntie or her _baata _or her brother. I shouldn't have taken advantage because you're Amestrian."

Rose hid a smile and drew herself up indignantly. "Captain Kaihan! Are you implying that Amestrians are women of easy virtue?"

Kaihan looked horrified and he quickly waved his hands. "No, no! I didn't—oh, no, _Zhaarana_, I didn't mean that at all!"

Rose laughed. "I'm sorry! I was just teasing you." She patted his arm reassuringly. "I understand what you mean. I don't have a father or an auntie or a brother or anyone that you have to worry about." She gave a thoughtful little twist of her mouth. "I do have an overprotective boss, but he's not here."

Kaihan relaxed and sat back with a sheepish grin. Then he said, "What about _Zhaarad _Stanno?"

"Um…what about him?"

Kaihan spoke a little cautiously. "You have been keeping company with him. Well," he added, with a little lift of his shoulders. "Sort of."

"Yes, _sort of_," Rose agreed. "I would _like _to think we've become friends." She felt a reluctance to admit to anything beyond that—to someone else, at least.

Kaihan looked even more relieved. "Ah, well. The thing is, I wanted to catch you before _Zhaarad _Stanno was up and about. Which he isn't, by the way," he added, with a pleased little smirk.

Rose felt compelled to defend the carpenter. "Well, when you're self-employed, you can pretty much set your own hours."

"It's all right for some," Kaihan conceded offhandedly. "But that being the case," he went on, leaning forward with an eager expression, "I came to see if you would care to go for a ride around Ishval."

"A ride?" Rose asked, surprised. "You mean, on a horse?"

Kaihan nodded. "I brought along one of the horses from the _tagma_ stables."

"I…I don't know. I haven't been on a horse in, well, not since I was about twelve," Rose replied.

Kaihan waved his hand. "Yushia's a well-mannered mare," he said. "She won't give you any trouble at all."

Rose hesitated. Kaihan was certainly a polite, likeable fellow. There was no reason for her to have any reservations about accepting his invitation. So where was that tiny niggling doubt coming from?

"Um…are you sure it's all right for me to be riding a…a government-issue horse?" She knew that wasn't where the doubt was coming from.

Kaihan shook his head, dismissing her worries. "Yushia is my second string mount. I need to make sure she gets exercise." He reached out and took one of Rose's hands and gazed at her imploringly. "Please say you'll come! I was hoping you'd take pity on a lonely fellow who's got a day off and nobody to spend it with!"

His look was so winsome that Rose had to laugh, completely won over. "Oh, well, if it's a mission of mercy, how could I say no!"

After changing into an old pair of trousers and some stout shoes she brought for hiking, she met Kaihan in front of the hotel. He gave her a leg up into the saddle, and while he was mounting his other horse, Rose glanced across the street at the wooden doors of Stanno's workshop, relieved that they were still closed.

Rose didn't think she was doing anything reprehensible. Yes, she and Stanno had become friends. She'd known him for a total of three days. Yes, she liked him. She wasn't quite sure why, but she did. He was hiding quite a lot about himself, she was sure, some maybe not so good, but some that could be quite good. She wasn't entirely sure yet what he thought of her, but he probably liked her, too, which was why she was glad he wasn't seeing her sneak off with someone else.

_No, I'm not sneaking! I'm going on a perfectly normal, harmless outing with a perfectly normal, harmless man on a perfectly normal, harmless horse. I don't need to feel guilty!_

She still would rather get going. "Lead on, Kaihan!"

It wasn't until they'd nearly gotten to the end of the street before one of the door panels of Stanno's workshop was lifted away. Rose didn't see the gaze following her that started out as shocked and grew morose.

They turned the corner and Stanno continued to glare down the street, the door panel gripped in his hands. By this time he finally leaned the panel against the inside wall, his expression had gone stony and indifferent.

**8888**

"I didn't realize what a big place Ishval is," Rose said as they rode through the northern edge of Kanda.

"It's bigger than it was before the war," Kaihan said. "We've been able to spread out more since we came back, even though there are fewer of us. Then again," he added with a smile, "since we came back, there are more of us."

"I sure have seen a lot of babies being carried around," Rose agreed.

"Well, then," Kaihan said, "what would you like to see today?"

Rose thought for a moment. "What part of Ishval do you come from?"

"From Lejia," Kaihan replied. "On the eastern side. After Gunja, it's the smallest of the districts."

"All right then. Let's go there!"

Kaihan made a slight grimace and shrugged. "Well, there's not much to it, really…"

"No?" Rose considered him with surprise. "I'd have thought you'd be proud of your home."

"Oh, I am," Kaihan replied with only minimal enthusiasm.

It seemed as though he was hiding something, and Rose had had enough of that with Stanno. "Oh, come on!" she coaxed. "You make it sound like a dump."

"No, no, it isn't!" Kaihan said quickly. "I mean…it's all right."

"Then I'd like to take a look." Rose smiled sweetly. "If you don't mind."

Kaihan flashed a game smile back at her. "For you, I'd be happy to."

They passed through Gunja and crossed into Lejia. Despite Kaihan's statement to the contrary, Lejia had just as much picturesque charm as anywhere else in Ishval. Its marketplace was just as busy and had its own blend of vendors' chants. There were several weavers along the artisans' row, and Rose made a mental note to come back and buy one of the rugs that were on display.

They moved on through a residential area, and Rose looked around at the houses painted in various shades of off-white and sandy rose.

"Which house is yours, Kaihan?"

Kaihan pointed vaguely behind him. "That one back there. The one with the bushes in the front.

Rose turned in her saddle and looked over her shoulder. She spotted the house with mounding bougainvillea on either side of the front door, covered in dark pink bracts. It looked like a nicely cared-for home, nothing to be ashamed of.

"Aren't we going to stop?" Rose asked. "I'd like to meet your family."

"They won't be there," Kaihan said quickly. He hesitated for a brief moment, then added, "They'll be out in the brush with…uh…with the goats." The last few words he mumbled.

"Oh, that's right! Pashmina mentioned that you raise goats."

"I _used _to," Kaihan said firmly. "But when the _khorovar _asked for some able young men to join the _tagma_, I jumped at the chance. I mean, goats are clever enough, and they provide us with meat and milk, wool and skin." He shook his head. "But it's the same thing, day after day, year after year. I just couldn't see myself standing around watching goats eat for the rest of my life. I wanted to do something more…" He grimaced in search of the right word.

"Romantic?" Rose suggested.

Kaihan turned to her with a bit of a self-conscious grin. "I suppose so. I was going to say exciting, but I suppose it's the same thing."

"And is it?"

"It's a damn sight better that tending goats!" Kaihan replied emphatically. He took on a proud look. "And folks look up to me!"

_Well, you're on a horse,_ Rose nearly said, but she just smiled. "So where do you keep your goats—sorry!—where does your family keep their goats?"

"In the scrubland just outside of town." Kaihan jerked his chin in a roughly easterly direction. "Goats can eat just about anything, you know."

"Can we go out there?" Rose asked.

Kaihan glanced at her, a hint of reluctance on his face. "Did you really want to?"

Rose shrugged. "Well, it'd be a nice ride, wouldn't it? Please?"

Kaihan gave a quiet sigh. "I suppose."

He turned down a side street and led the way toward the outer edge of Lejia. The houses thinned out to desert landscape, which was lush in its own way, a collection of plants that could thrive where more familiar vegetation could not. They didn't need to go far before Rose could hear bleating and the light, tinny clinking of bells.

They skirted through a winding dry wash that made a channel through _meskaa_ trees and oddly shaped, somewhat lethal-looking cactus. Presently, they reached a wide, open area that was full of a variety of weeds like spurge and broom. Happily feasting on this otherwise useless vegetation was a sizeable herd of shaggy goats. Flanking the animals were several people plus a couple of black and white dogs, who seemed to be guards rather than herders. They stood at the humans' sides, listening attentively to the surrounding area. Their heads turned in unison with their humans as Kaihan and Rose entered the clearing.

A fortyish man with a short beard raised his hands in greeting.

"Well, now, look who it is! Our hero!"

The others chuckled lightly, and Kaihan's mouth twisted into something between a smile and an embarrassed grimace. "Uncle…" he muttered in greeting.

"_Eh-h_! And who's this with you?" Kaihan's uncle went on, moving around the goats toward Rose. "You must be the Amestrian lady we've been hearing about! _Doishteve_!" he said with a grin.

"Thank you," Rose replied.

A woman joined Uncle at his side. "What may we call you, _Zhaarana_?" she asked.

"Rose Thomas."

Remembering his manners, Kaihan spoke up. "Rose, this is my Uncle Fahran and my Aunt Hasti. And over there, that's my cousin Marwa," he said, pointing to a young girl of about twelve who was scratching the ears of a goat that was pushing up against her, begging for attention. She gave Rose a shy smile.

Kaihan then pointed to a teenage boy wearing a red bandana around his head. "That's Rik. He's been living with us since his _djaari _went to Ishvala's bosom. His grandfather," Kaihan added at Rose's slightly questioning look.

"Hello!" Rik called with a wave and a gap-toothed smile.

Uncle Fahran beckoned to them. "Well, why don't you come down here and sit a while. We'll be having our midday meal soon. You should join us!"

"Oh, that would be—"

"Ah, sorry, Uncle!" Kaihan said quickly. "I promised Rose a tour, so we can't stay long."

Aunt Hasti sighed. "Well, of course, if you're that busy…" She used that particular guilt-inflicting tone that transcended cultural boundaries.

Kaihan shrugged helplessly. "_Zhaarana _Rose will be needing to get back to Kanda in good time to have supper with _Zhaarana _Koshan."

Rose was about to say that she didn't need that much time, but Rik, whose grin had widened somewhat, called out, "_Ai_, Kaihan! You sure you don't want to stay? Bemba misses you!" he added slyly.

As if in reply, one of the does, her sides wide with pregnancy, lifted her head and bleated loudly in Kaihan's direction. Kaihan gave a wan half smile at the laughter from his aunt and uncle, and his cousin giggled behind her hand.

Encouraged, Rik continued. "We figure she's carrying twins! You must be so proud!"

Fahran and Hasti laughed even louder. Kaihan gave Rik a furious glare and growled something in Ishvalan, which didn't seem to perturb the boy in the slightest. Kaihan looked back at his uncle and aunt, who were still laughing.

"We have to be going now," he announced stiffly. "I'll see you tonight."

"That's all right," Fahran said with a wave and a chuckle. "You two run along. I'll explain things to Bemba."

This elicited another round of laughter, and Kaihan reined his horse around to leave the clearing. Rose gave the goatherds a quick apologetic smile, which they managed to acknowledge through the hilarity, and she turned to follow Kaihan. He had already gone ahead, and it took Rose a few minutes to catch up with him. When she did fall in behind him through the narrow dry wash, she could tell by the set of his shoulders that he was still angry. Then he glanced over his shoulder at her, giving her a darkly rueful look.

"Sorry about all that," he grumbled.

"Maybe I'm the one who should apologize," Rose replied. "I sort of pushed you into it."

Kaihan shook his head. "No, it's not your fault. I didn't think they'd go on like that if I brought someone to meet them, but I should have known better." He fumed silently for a few moments, then burst out, "They _never _take me seriously! I don't _care _if our family's raised goats since the beginning of stinking time!"

"I'm sure they must be very proud of you."

"If they are, they've yet to tell me!" Kaihan shot back. "Uncle says I'm giving myself airs. Auntie says Ishvalans are decent, God-fearing folk and we don't need police. I tell them that's not the point!"

"No, I understand—"

"And even when _Khorovar _Andakar chose me as captain, do you think they'd be impressed? No! All I got was 'isn't that nice' and not much since!"

"Well, maybe they-"

"And of _course_ they have to keep going on about that damn goat!" Kaihan groaned. "The stupid thing would always follow me around and everybody thought it was _so _funny! I can't wait for that damn thing to die!"

"Oh, now, it's not that—"

Kaihan turned to her, suddenly anxious. "You won't tell anybody, will you? I mean, they probably joke about it with their friends, but…I mean…it'd be different if it came from you."

Rose gave him a puzzled look. "How so? I hope it's not because I'm Amestrian. We're really not that different, you know."

"No, it's not that. I just…" Kaihan grimaced self-consciously. "I wouldn't want folks to think that you thought poorly of me."

Rose didn't think her opinion held that much sway. She also considered what a burden a fragile male ego must be. Keeping these thoughts to herself, she replied patiently, "I don't think poorly of you, Kaihan, and I would never say anything to give anyone that impression." She gave him an encouraging smile. "Now cheer up, okay?"

Kaihan managed a smile in return. "Sorry. I'm not being very good company."

Rose waved a hand. "Don't even worry about it!" Then she added, "You're a nice guy, Kaihan, and nobody can make you feel bad about yourself unless you let them."

Kaihan considered this with a nod, and his boyish grin returned. "Now there's a truth!"

By the time they left Lejia, Kaihan had recovered his good humor. His bruised ego was further soothed by people waving to him as they passed by, acknowledging him as the _tagma _officer rather than a former goatherd with family issues.

They stopped in the district of Maazra for lunch, then rode out to the fields where the harvest was being gathered. What had been a sea of waving heads of millet and barley had been mowed. Other fields were green with a new growth of rye, which would mature through the mild Ishvalan winter. Kaihan coaxed Rose into speeding up into a canter, and for a while they followed the paths that crisscrossed through the fields. Rose hadn't done anything like this since she was a kid, and it was fun to have the wind whipping through her hair as Yushia carried her at a smooth pace.

Eventually, Kaihan had to get his horses back to the stables, so they rode back to Kanda. They reached the front of the Desert Dove, and Kaihan dismounted to help Rose slide down from her saddle.

"Thanks for such a nice time," Rose said.

"Ah, it was my pleasure," Kaihan replied. "I'll see you at the festival, won't I?"

"Definitely! I'm not going to miss that."

Kaihan gave her a nod and a grin. "Until then!" He swung up on his horse and with a final wave, he rode off, leading Yushia. Rose watched him for a few moments, then turned to look across the street. Sitting with his back to the street, Stanno was bending over one of his cedar chests, applying a coat of varnish. He hadn't looked up when they arrived or acknowledged her presence at all. He may simply have been engrossed in his work. She walked up to the front of the workshop and peered over Stanno's shoulder.

"That cedar's such a nice, warm color," she remarked, mainly because she felt like she ought to say something.

Stanno took a moment to reply, and when he did, it was not much more than a grunt.

That didn't bode well, but Rose remained undaunted. "Will you be able to get them shipped in time?"

"If you left me the hell alone, I might."

Rose flinched at the harshness in Stanno's tone. "Excuse me?"

Stanno's brush paused only briefly. "I'm _busy_!"

Rose felt a rising exasperation. "Look, if this has anything to do with me going riding with—"

With a brittle patience, Stanno set his brush down across the top of the varnish can and stood up to face Rose with an unwelcoming glower. "I don't give half a rat's ass what you do or who you do it with! You can canter all the way back to Liore if you like! _I _have work to do!"

Rose stared at him. She was almost as bewildered as she was shocked. Nothing she had done could possibly warrant such hostility.

When she could finally manage a reply, she demanded, "Stanno, what is _wrong_ with you?"

"What's wrong with me?" Stanno echoed with a short, bitter laugh. "Surely our beloved _khorovar _and his perfect wife must have told you everything that's wrong with _me_! So why don't we just stop wasting each other's time, all right?"

Stanno abruptly turned his back and reached down for his brush, leaving Rose to stare at him, openmouthed. Then, in a sudden burst of fury and frustration, she clutched at her head, gripping a couple of handfuls of hair.

"What is with you _men_?" she burst out in a strangled scream. She glared at Stanno's back, then gave him a shove, which only elicited a glare over his shoulder. "Listen, you! I can form my own opinions, thank you! I don't need anyone else to tell me what an asshole you are! And just for the record, nobody did, all right?" Rose threw her hands up in the air. "So have a nice life!"

Stanno spun around to stare at her, and he began to open his mouth to speak, but she had already turned and was storming back across the street to the hotel. She didn't want to see the look on his face. She hadn't spoken like that to anyone in a very long time and it left her a bit shaken. She felt justified that Stanno had it coming to him, but she wasn't entirely happy about being the one to deliver it.

"_Eh-h, Zhaarana_! What was that all about?"

Rose looked up with a start to see Atash regarding her with concern from the reception desk, and she could feel her cheeks go suddenly hot. "Just a…" she began, then shook her head and mumbled, "Nothing."

Atash raised his eyebrows skeptically. "Well, that was quite a bit of nothing, if you ask me."

Rose let out a weary sigh. "Nothing worth repeating."

Atash nodded but he still watched her. "Are you going to be all right?" he asked, giving her the impression that he knew exactly what was going on.

"Yeah, I suppose so," Rose said with a glum shrug. "When does Pashmina's aunt want us over?"

"Oh, not for a good hour, hour and a half or so," Atash replied. He tilted his head a little. "Are you sure you want to go?"

"Yes," Rose said firmly. "Yes, I do. I want to spend time with some normal people. But right now I'm going to go upstairs and take a bath and wash everything out of my hair."

Atash shook his head and chuckled to himself as Rose headed up the stairs. "You do that, _Zhaarana._"


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Rose was awake well before the sun rose. She lay curled up under the covers trying to get the remnants of a bad dream out of her head. She had dreamt that she stood in the street in front of the hotel, shouting out nonsense that sparked a riot. She was trying to find a place to hide but everything was so murky that she couldn't see where she was going. She was overcome by an oppressive dread and forced herself to wake up.

Whether or not it was the fault of the dream, she felt even more unhappy about her confrontation with Stanno than she had the day before. She was ashamed of the way she reacted, and she resented having been provoked into it in the first place. She ought to have had her fill of people raising their voices in anger at each other. Well, at least she'd stopped short of smashing his head in with a brick.

Normally, she would lounge in bed for a while, enjoying the luxury of her holiday, but now she felt restless. Annoyed at herself, she threw off her blankets, put on her robe, and went downstairs. Pashmina was just bustling out of the back office and stopped when she saw Rose.

"You're up early!" the girl remarked. "I just put the kettle on, so there'll be tea soon. Unless you'd like coffee!" she added eagerly.

Rose had to smile. Pashmina had been anxious to try out her coffee brewing skills. "I'd love some coffee."

Pashmina practically bounced with excitement. "Oh, good! I'll bring it out as soon as it's ready. Atash went to get you a newspaper."

Rose smiled at her fondly. They were such a cute couple and their eager efficiency was comforting. "Thanks, Pashmina."

She went out into the garden and sat at one of the tables. It was a little cooler this morning than it had been, and she pulled her robe more closely around her. She still felt a little sleepy, so she closed her eyes while she waited.

The previous evening at Auntie Nenya's had been something of a trial. Rose tried to act cheerful, but it wasn't easy. Atash, who was there at Pashmina's insistence, covered for her by keeping up a lively conversation. After dinner, he remarked on how tired Rose looked, which she honestly did, and they were able to excuse themselves without appearing rude. When they returned to the hotel, Stanno's workshop was sealed up, but there were slivers of light coming from between the wooden panels. Rose looked away quickly. She couldn't exactly pretend he didn't exist, but being reminded of him gave her a twinge of bitterness.

She heard muffled voices from inside the hotel and then footsteps at the door to the garden. Thinking it was either Atash or Pashmina, she opened her eyes. Standing in the doorway was Stanno, looking doleful, a bit disheveled, and somewhat sleep deprived. Rose felt an initial irritation, but the man looked so hangdog that she didn't have the heart to give him the grief that she could have. She wasn't quite ready to be magnanimous, either, so she was left with nothing to say.

Stanno ended up speaking first, and that was with some difficulty. "I'm…probably the…um…last fellow you want to see right now…"

Rose lifted a shoulder. She could think of a few other faces she'd rather never see again. "So what brings you here?"

She hadn't noticed before that he had one hand behind him, and he brought it forward. In it, he was holding a wooden box, a little smaller than a shoebox. "I…uh…wanted to give you this," he said, stepping closer. "That is…if you'll accept it."

He set the box on the table. Rose leaned forward to look more closely at it and drew in a little gasp. It was made of cedar, and there was a simple braided border carved into the lid.

"It just has a couple of coats of tung oil," Stanno said. He spoke as if giving a poor excuse for something he'd done wrong. "It might still be a little sticky."

Rose brushed the surface of the lid with her fingertips. The soft finish wasn't sticky at all, and it felt like silk. She opened the lid, which lifted smoothly on little brass hinges, and she picked it up, releasing the distinctive aromatic scent. She closed the lid and turned the box over. On the bottom was carved a curious little design. She had noticed the same design on the carved shutters in her room, and she realized that it must be Stanno's signature, or at least his initials. She turned it right side up again, admiring the delicate carvings.

"This is beautiful!" she breathed. She looked up at Stanno. "You must have been up all night doing this!"

He shrugged. "Well…not _all_ night."

Rose gave him a look of gentle reproach. "Stanno, you didn't have to do that!"

"It's the only thing I can do without making a complete cockup out of it." Betraying a restless frustration, Stanno lifted his hands and let them drop. "I don't have much else to take pride in. Anyway," he went on in something close to a mumble, "I'm sorry."

Rose sighed and considered the carpenter for a moment. He had none of Kaihan's winsome charm. At the moment, there was very little that was actually charming about him, but Rose found herself deeply touched. She couldn't help feeling a bit of remorse herself.

"I'm sorry, too," she said quietly. "You know, for calling you an asshole."

A smile pulled halfheartedly at a corner of his mouth. "Don't apologize. You were right." Then his brows puckered thoughtfully. "So…Rada didn't talk about me?"

"Only in a general way," Rose replied.

"What about Andakar?"

"All he said was that you and he have history."

"Hm." Stanno scratched an unshaven cheek and frowned down at the box on the table. Presently, he seemed to have either made a decision or worked up a certain amount of courage. He looked up to meet Rose's eyes with forlorn hope. "Would you be willing to drive out to the foothills with me? There are some things I'd like you to see and I…uh…have some things I'd like to tell you and…I'd rather be away from here when I do." He paused for an answer, but then blurted out, almost angrily, "I can understand why you wouldn't want to—"

"No, I'd like to come," Rose said.

"It's not like you—" The carpenter stopped with his mouth open when he realized what she had said. "You would?"

Rose nodded. "I would. But don't you have work to do?"

Stanno waved his hand. "This is more important." He gazed somewhat anxiously at Rose. "The thing is, you'll be stuck with me out in the middle of nowhere, and you may end up wanting to be as far away from me as possible."

Rose could feel herself wanting to smile, but she didn't want to make light of the poor man's misery. She stood up, picking up the cedar box. "Let me change my clothes."

8888

They rumbled along a dirt road in an old army truck that Stanno had recently paid off. It was a serviceable vehicle, not built for comfort. Rose hoped he didn't pay too much for it. Behind them, in the bed of the truck, were a couple of barrels, a shovel, and a long iron rod that had one pointed end and one chisel end. Up in the cab, at Rose's feet, was a basket of food that Pashmina and Atash had hastily thrown together. When the young man handed it to them as they left, he was stifling a grin.

It was a long drive, nearly two hours. Once they were past the crop fields they reached open desert. The road began to rise and the desert thinned out to rolling hills of yellow grass and scattered oaks. The river flowed along their right and off to their left could be seen a wide span of square and rectangular shapes just below the surface ground like bones that hadn't been buried deep enough. It struck Rose that she was catching a glimpse of the ruins of Old Ishval she'd been hearing about, and in the back of her mind, she would have loved to stop and explore.

At the forefront of her attention, however, was a story that Stanno was telling her. It concerned the extraordinary circumstances that led him, in his selfishness and pride, to commit an act of utter heartlessness. He did not, of course, think in those terms back then. It wasn't until much later that he realized the villainy of his actions and the full extent of his loss. The life he ended up ruining was his own.

When he finally talked himself out, he looked drained, and he stared grimly out the windshield, waiting for some reaction from Rose, but not asking for one. She really wasn't sure what to say. When the minutes began to tick by, Stanno slowed the truck and came to a stop, turning off the engine.

"I could turn around and take you back," he muttered.

Rose let out a sigh. "Don't be silly! There's no reason for that."

"Don't you hate me?"

"Do you want me to?" Rose shot back as a challenge.

Stanno gave her a sullen look. "No," he muttered.

"Well, good! I'm glad we got that established," Rose said, allowing a bit of sarcasm in her tone. She folded her arms looked out the window, mulling over what she had just heard, a confession of sorts. "I have to say, what you did was pretty cheap. There's no getting around that."

"No."

"You must've been a real schmuck back then."

Stanno scowled a little. "I'm going to guess that's an insult."

"Yeah. It's something my boss Willie calls people sometimes. It's not nice. The thing is," Rose went on after a moment's consideration, "I find it hard to believe that you're the same person who did that."

Stanno frowned at his hands where they rested on the steering wheel. "No, it's still me."

"Well, it's partly you," Rose replied. Her brows knit in thought. Then she pointed out her window toward the site of the ruins. "See that?"

Stanno glanced out the window with a puzzled look. "What about it?"

"That's history out there," Rose said. "You can just see it, but it's mostly buried. They're going to start digging it up, and I bet they'll find some amazing and wonderful things." Still gazing out the window, she went on, "Rada said—in your defense, by the way—that some history doesn't need to be dug up." She looked back at Stanno. "I figure if she, of all people, can say that, then it must mean that you've become a different sort of man."

Stanno raised an eyebrow at her. "And what sort of man would that be?"

Rose smiled. "The sort of man who would stay up all night building a beautiful little cedar box just to say he was sorry."

Stanno searched her face for a moment, hope slowly dawning in his eyes. "You don't hate me?"

"No, I don't. As a matter of fact, I'm actually kind of flattered."

Stanno looked a little surprised. "Flattered?"

"Uh-huh. It must have been very hard to let down your guard and reveal something like that about yourself." Rose's smile grew. "You must think an awful lot of me to trust me like that."

Stanno regarded her for several moments in quiet amazement, then he turned to gaze out the windshield at the landscape around them.

"Bloody hell," he murmured to himself. He looked back at her and smiled. It was a handsome, genuinely charming smile. "I knew there was something different about you."

"Oh, _pfft!_" Rose exclaimed dismissively. "I'm no different from anybody else!"

"No?" With a little grin, Stanno reached out and gave the pink locks of Rose's hair a tug. "Where did you get these, then?"

Rose batted his hands away. "I was born like this, all right?" She gave him a playfully stern look. "Are we going to just sit here and yack all day or was there something you wanted to show me?"

"Ah!" Stanno started the engine back up. "We're nearly there."

8888

"This looks like a good one." Stanno reached down and picked a plump acorn from the ground.

Rose stepped close to him and watched as he gave the cap a push with his thumb. It popped easily off the acorn. He then inspected it for any damage or rot, then nodded to Rose. "This'll do."

He headed off to an open space away from the other oak trees and held the acorn out to Rose, who handed him a shovel in exchange. This was the third acorn they'd planted together. He'd already planted several this year, and he proudly showed her the seedlings that had sprouted from the year before.

"Don't the acorns just fall and sprout by themselves?" Rose asked.

"Yes, they do," Stanno replied. He drove the shovel into the hard ground, digging through the tough dormant grass and down about a foot and a half of topsoil. He then took the iron bar and drove the pointed end deeper into the ground to start breaking up the layer of hardpan, or _kalcheh_. "They send down a taproot, they grow into a fine oak tree, which lives for years and years and then finally dies. But then I come along and cut them down, so I have to make sure I replace them."

"That's very civic minded of you."

"Hardly." Stanno turned the iron bar to start chipping away at the _kalcheh _with the chisel end. "It's mostly greed. I'm just replenishing my stock."

Rose opened her hand and held out the acorn. "How long will it be before this actually grows into a tree that you can cut down and make something with?"

Stanno glanced at her with a smirk. "I'll probably be too old by then."

"Does anybody ever come out here to admire these oaks?"

Stanno turned over another spadeful of dirt. "Not that I know of."

"So are you practicing good conservation?"

For a few minutes, Stanno concentrated on breaking up the clods of soil and picking out the white, rocky chunks of _kalcheh_, tossing them aside. "When my father first started teaching me his craft," he said finally, " he would take me out here in a donkey cart and show me where the oak he used came from. He taught me everything about wood and woodworking, from the acorn to the table."

"What a lovely memory!"

"Not exactly," Stanno replied. "Remember, I said we came out here"—he pointed to the ground—"in a donkey cart. It took ages. And being stuck with my father for that long wasn't pleasant. He was temperamental and a hard taskmaster. But he knew his craft. And he told me that I had to do the same thing with my sons." He started refilling the hole with the prepared soil. "I don't have any sons, but at least I have these trees. So I guess that's why I do it."

Although he spoke matter-of-factly, Rose found his remark to be touchingly sad. Then, as he held his hand out for the acorn, another thought occurred to her. Stanno glanced at her as she gave him the acorn and he paused, studying her face.

"What?" he asked.

Rose gave a little start, not realizing that she was smiling. "Oh…it's nothing," she said with a little shrug and a blush.

His gaze held hers steadily. "Oh, come! Tell me."

"It's just…" Rose lifted her hands to indicate the oak trees around them. "It's sort of like you brought me out here to meet your family."

Stanno regarded her with an amused, quizzical look for several moments, deepening her blush. Then he shook his head. "You may not think you're different, Rose," he said, admiration in his voice, "but you're not like anyone I've ever met."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

The drive back was much more agreeable than the drive out. Stanno felt as though a tremendous weight had been lifted off his soul and he grew voluble. He had Rose laughing at the story of when he recently enlisted Atash to drive out to the mountains to help him harvest cedar. It was a much longer, rather more arduous trip than this one, involving an overnight stop (Stanno slept in the cab and made Atash sleep in the bed of the truck). Atash would only come if Stanno taught him how to drive, which led to an adventure that Stanno didn't think he would ever want to recall, let alone recount to someone else. He was more disposed to see the humor in it now as well as being more kindly disposed toward Atash.

It was wonderful to hear Rose laugh and see her smile. Just one day ago he was convinced that she despised him. Now here they were, talking easily together and enjoying each other's company.

Just like friends.

The thought startled him enough to make Rose notice the change in his expression.

"You okay?" she asked. "You look like you just realized you forgot something."

"What?" Stanno glanced at her, then turned back to the road. "No, I…" He smiled and shook his head. How could he explain it to her? He didn't make friends, not real ones. "Friends" were people who made demands, who wanted things from you. He should know, because like much of what he did, he developed associations with people with an eye for what he could get out of them, if only to listen to him talk about himself. His interest in them was not mutual.

Yet here was this Amestrian woman—an Amestrian _and_ a woman!—whose company and good opinion he craved simply for their own sakes. She was interesting, she was wise, she was sweet-tempered, and dear Ishvala, she was pretty! He didn't dare to try to think beyond that. This moment was so fragile in its perfection and he didn't want to ruin it. But he had to do something, and he had to be honest about it.

He reached out and took her hand, giving it a squeeze. "I like you, Rose Thomas, more than I've ever liked anyone. And while that may not seem like it means much, it means a lot to me."

He glanced at her, hoping that didn't strike her as pathetic as it sounded to him. To his tremendous relief, she gave him a gloriously sweet smile. "That means a lot to me, too, Stanno. I like you, too."

To his surprise and possible mortification if Rose could see a blush in an Ishvalan's complexion, he felt his face grow warm. That hadn't happened to him since he was in school. He gave a little chuckle that he hoped didn't give away how delightfully awkward he felt. "Ah…are you sure about that? I mean, this is _me_."

Rose gave him a patiently indulgent look. "Yes, Stanno, I'm aware of that. And yes, I'm sure. I mean, everybody has their flaws, but they also have their finer points."

"Oh, yes?" Stanno asked, intrigued as to what she might think his were.

"Yes." She considered him with a critically thoughtful look that made Stanno expect to hear something profound and wonderful. "You're like a hedgehog."

That wasn't exactly what he had expected. "Uh…how's that?"

Rose smiled a little mischievously. "You're mostly all prickly, but you've got this underbelly that you try to hide because it's all fuzzy and tender."

If anyone else had tried to tell him that, he would have cuffed them along the side of their head and called them something rude. Coming from Rose, though, he wouldn't dream of arguing with her. Still, he had his pride. "Uh…you won't tell anyone else that, will you?"

Rose laughed delightedly, which made being likened to a hedgehog rather more appealing. "No, I won't," she assured him. "It'll be our secret."

Stanno smiled. He liked the sound of that.

As they drew nearer to the outer border of Ishval's eastern districts, Stanno slowed the truck to a stop while a large herd of goats trotted across the road in front of them. Strolling along with them, the two guard dogs at his heels, was Rik. He waved a hand in greeting and walked toward the truck.

Stanno let out an impatient breath. "What does he want?" he muttered.

"Shh!" Rose chided him. She turned to Rik as the boy stepped up to the passenger window. "How's it going?" she asked.

"Pretty well, thanks for asking," Rik replied, leaning his forearms on the door. He offered a nod to Stanno. "_Zhaarad._" Looking back at Rose, he grinned. "If you should happen to see Kaihan, tell him that Bemba had two fine, healthy kids this morning."

"Oh, that's nice!" Rose commented. "How is the mother doing?"

Rik gave a dramatic sigh. "Pining! Kaihan wasn't there to hold her hoof!"

Rose gave a little snort of laughter. "Yeah, right."

"And tell Kaihan that they look just like him!" Rik added with a gleefully wicked smile.

Rose rolled her eyes. "I most certainly will not!"

Rik laughed and clapped his hand against the door as he stepped away and jogged after his herd.

Stanno's eyes followed him with mild distaste as he shifted the truck into first and resumed their journey. "What was that all about?"

"Oh, it's just a dumb joke," Rose explained. "This goat got really fond of Kaihan, apparently, and his family keeps teasing him about it. It's gone way past being funny, if you ask me."

"Well, they're goatherds," Stanno said with a shrug. He wasn't inclined to feel charitable toward Kaihan. "What do you expect?"

Rose gave him a light smack on the arm. "Don't be a snob!" She held up a warning finger. "And you did _not_ hear that story from me, all right? I'm serious!"

Stanno smiled and nodded. "It'll be our secret."

It was late afternoon when they returned to the Desert Dove. Stanno parked in the access road and walked Rose to the back gate and through the garden. He was about to ask her if she would join him for dinner, something he fervently hoped she would say yes to, when they became aware of a number of voices coming from inside the hotel lobby, a mix of Ishvalan and Amestrian. One voice carried over the others.

"_Yshtue als ta niye, laleh! _I'm good for it! I need those rugs!"

Stanno halted abruptly and moaned his disbelief in Ishvalan. This otherwise enjoyable day threatened to sour. Of all times for that jumped-up fiddle scraper to come back! What irritated Stanno the most about Shua was the fact that they actually seemed to get along.

A young girl, about thirteen, stepped out through the back door carrying a basket and humming to herself. The girl looked up and saw the two newcomers.

"Oh, hello!" She looked back over her shoulder to the inside of the hotel. "_Djaari_!" she called. "He's back!"

An exasperated oath was heard from inside, and a moment later, Shua appeared at the door, scowling with consternation. "Where the bloody hell have you been?" he demanded of Stanno. He turned and flashed a smiled at Rose. "Hello, love! Nice to see you again!" He frowned again at Stanno. "Where the bloody hell have you been?"

"What are _you_ doing here?" Stanno demanded in reply.

Shua rolled his eyes and waved his hand at their surroundings. "I own this place, remember?"

"So do I. Is there a problem?"

Mika had set her basket on the flagstones and had taken up a broom. "The Fuhrer's coming to stay!" she announced grandly.

Stanno stared at her, then back at Shua. "Honestly?"

"As the day is long," Shua replied with a nod.

Rose had drawn in a quick gasp. "Fuhrer Grumman's staying _here_? At this hotel?"

Shua grinned at her. "That's right, darling! You're in for some very fancy company." He turned to go back inside, beckoning them to follow. "Come along, then!"

"When did this get decided?" Stanno wanted to know as he and Rose stepped into the lobby.

"Last night," Shua replied. "He called me just before I was leaving the Parliament building and said he wanted to come out for the festival and do a spot of fishing."

"_Tch_! The word at the last chieftains' council was that he wasn't coming," Stanno said with some contempt, folding his arms. "Other pressing matters of state or some horseshit like that. Ishval doesn't rate high enough."

"Well, it does now," Shua said with a shrug. "Seems all these other pressing matters of state pressed straight up his nose and he needs a vacation. I think as soon as he heard that there was trout in the unsullied waters of the Halik, suddenly Ishval sounded very attractive. The _point_ is," he went on deliberately, "that this place has to look as polished as we can make it. I want to—"

The telephone at the reception counter rang and Shua yelled over his shoulder toward the office. "Atash! Get that!"

"I've got it! I've got it!" Atash rushed out of the office and snatched up the phone. "Thank you for calling the Desert Dove Hotel!"

While Atash listened to whoever was calling, Shua turned back to Stanno. "I want to really impress the old fart," he said. He pointed toward the ceiling. "I need an upstairs room and two downstairs rooms"—he pointed to the floor—"fully furnished because he's got a bodyguard and a secretary coming with him, too. How's the plumbing?"

Stanno shrugged. "Fine, as far as I know."

"I should hope you knew!" Shua looked at Rose with a warm smile. "How do you like it here, _Zhaarana_? Do you like your room? Is everyone treating you nice? Does the toilet work?"

Rose nodded emphatically. "Oh, yes! I've been having a wonderful time! Atash and Pashmina have been so sweet! And the toilet's fine."

"Well, thank Ishvala for that!" Shua rubbed his forehead wearily. "Let's see. Oh! A couple more tables in the dining room! Stanno, tell me you have some in your shop!"

Stanno ran through a quick mental inventory with a dismal, sinking feeling. So much for a nice dinner with Rose. "A couple. They're not quite—"

Shua waved his hand quickly. "Just do what you need to do! And maybe some—"

"_Zhaarad _Shua!" Atash clamped his hand over the telephone receiver. "It's Brigadier General Mustang! He's coming, too! Him and his wife and his baby girl!"

"_Eh-h_!" Shua threw his hands up in the air. "When Ishvala hands out blessings, they're in abundance!" he exclaimed, not entirely with a sense of reverence. "Let me talk to him."

He stepped over to the reception counter and took the phone from Atash. "Brigadier!" he cried cordially. "This is a nice surprise…Oh, well, that's understandable…" He chuckled. "Traveling in style, then, are we?...Of course we can. How big is she?...Not at all. Listen, there are so many children around here, I'm sure we can borrow something…What do you mean, don't make a fuss? Grumman's coming! The fuss has already been made!" Shua laughed heartily. "We'll see you then!"

He hung up the phone and pressed the heels of his hands to his forehead. "Right, that makes four rooms we need now. Better make it two up, two down." He strode to the garden door and leaned out of it. "Mika! Set that aside for now."

"But—"

"There'll just be more leaves tomorrow anyway. Go run after Pashmina and tell her we'll need all the linens. And see about those rugs. If Nenya doesn't have enough, see who else does."

"Okay, _djaari_."

Mika came scurrying through the lobby toward the front door, where she nearly collided with Rada, who had just appeared with a thick armload of folded fabric. Giggling, they jockeyed for position until Mika slipped past.

"I've got the rest of your bedspreads, Shua," Rada called cheerfully as she came through the door, peering around her burden. She beamed at Stanno and Rose. "_There_ you are! Isn't this exciting?"

Stanno felt a sudden welling of warm affection for Rada, more than he ever had for her before. She could have so easily ruined his life with a few words to Rose, but she didn't. Maybe he truly never deserved her in the first place. He practically leaped forward. "Here, let me get those for you! You didn't carry those all this way, did you?"

"_Thank _you, Stanno!" she said. There was a bit of surprise in her voice, but she sounded pleased. She bundled the spreads into Stanno's arms. "No, I only carried them to the door. I took a 'shaw here."

Stanno shifted the armload of fabric to get a better view of her. "And the little squit didn't carry them in for you?" he demanded indignantly.

Rada waved away his remark. "Oh, it's all right. I lift children all day, sometimes two at a time." She turned to Shua. "Did Roy call you? He called the governor's office earlier to talk about the Fuhrer coming." She rolled her eyes a little. "Andakar and Miles are having fits—well, as much as they do. They're really quite calm—but they've got everyone else running about like headless chickens."

"Oh, I daresay," Shua commented with a smirk.

"Anyway," Rada went on, "Roy said that he wanted to bring Riza and Christina out for the festival—nothing official, just a family trip."

Shua gave a short laugh. "Well, he still managed to hitch a ride on the Fuhrer's train, so it's going to have to _look _official."

"Then it's an official family trip," Rada declared. "That's Fuhrer Grumman's granddaughter and great-granddaughter, after all. But we couldn't put them up at our house until we get a second floor built, and since Miles has _baata _Zulee living with them now, they don't have a spare bed." She took a breath and lifted her shoulders. "So there it is. Did you need anything else? I still have a lot of _fyil_ to roll out, a chicken to pluck, and a house to clean."

"No, _laleh_, thanks, it's all in hand," Shua replied, glancing around the lobby. "Oh!" He turned quickly back to Rada. "We need a bed for the little one! Would you happen to have a spare that your brood isn't using?"

"No, sorry, Shua."

Feeling inspired and wanting to impress, Stanno spoke up. "If you don't want it to be too fancy, I can throw one together."

Shua gave him a mildly surprised look, but nodded approvingly. "That'd be grand!"

"I've got some extra baby blankets!" Rada offered as she turned to leave. "I'll have Danika bring them over."

"Thanks, Rada!" Shua called after her. He rubbed his hands together. "Good! This is coming together nicely. Atash!"

"Right here, _Zhaarad_!"

"Take those bedspreads upstairs. Then go help Pashmina carry back any rugs her auntie could spare. See if she's got something to cover the seats in the dining room, too."

Stanno handed the armload of fabric over to Atash, who bounded up the stairs with them.

"Is there anything I can do?"

Both men turned to Rose, who had been quietly observing all this activity.

Shua gave her a slightly scandalized look and shook his head. "Oh, no! I couldn't put you to work!"

"Hey, I'm a working girl," Rose replied.

"No, no, _Zhaarana_!" Shua wagged his finger back and forth. "You're the guest, remember. That makes you the quality."

"But I want to help out!" Rose protested. "I can't just sit around and watch everybody else do all the work!"

Stanno grinned. He moved to Rose's side and put an arm around her shoulders. "_I _say we let our guest do as she likes."

Rose looked at Shua with hopeful expectancy, and Shua lifted an eyebrow and smiled a knowing little half smile as he regarded the two of them. "Ah, well, who am I to say no to that?"

Rose let a pleased little giggle and leaned into Stanno as he gave her shoulders a squeeze. _Go ahead and grin, you vatrish bastard. You're damn right she's quality._

8888

With a sigh of weary satisfaction, Stanno leaned back against the cushions propped up into a corner of the dining room seating. He'd put his feet up on the table, but it was one of his tables. After hours of flurried activity, it was now late evening. Stanno looked around him. This was a nice room, very warm and inviting and very Ishvalan. The shutters in the deep set windows were not as ornate as those in the guest rooms, but they still boasted of his craftsmanship.

Running nearly the entire perimeter of the room was wide bench seating, just simple pine with woven coverings in pleasantly muted colors. On the red tile floors were spread bright rugs in rusty scarlet and gold. Scattered against the walls were pillows and bolsters in a variety of colors. Pashmina, Atash, and Mika had scoured the marketplace for all these goods. Then Pashmina and Rose spent the rest of the evening dressing up this otherwise bare room as well as making up the rooms that would soon be occupied by the next day's influx of guests.

Stanno had spent his time building a child's bed out of scraps of pine. He didn't bother with oil or varnish or paint, only giving it a good smooth sanding. With some soft padding and the embroidered blankets that Rada sent over, it turned out perfectly.

But what pleased him the most was the sight of the woman sitting next to him. She had dropped down beside him, announcing that she was exhausted but just as pleased with the fruits of their labor. She had thrown herself into it enthusiastically and even spurred the rest of them on when their energy started to flag. He was so proud of her. But as much as he would have loved to just gaze at her like this forever, she really did look just as worn out as she claimed to be.

He gave her shoulder a nudge.

"Why don't you call it a day?"

"Mm," Rose murmured as she opened her eyes. "But I'm so comfy here."

"You can sleep out here if you really want to," Stanno said reasonably. "I could throw a blanket over you."

Rose laughed quietly and sat forward, leaning her palms against the edge of the seat. "No, that's okay. I'll head upstairs." She turned and gave him a smile that turned him into butter. "I'm tempted to say that this has been the best day ever."

"I would be more than happy to give into temptation," Stanno replied before realizing just how that could be taken. He nearly apologized but then decided with a burst of confidence to let Rose gather whatever meaning from it she liked.

Rose looked away quickly, very prettily flustered, and her smile grew. "Well, tomorrow's another big day," she announced. She looked back at him. "Good night, Stanno."

"Good night, Rose. Sleep well." He wanted so much to kiss her, if only on the cheek, but Rose stood up before he could take the opportunity.

Rose crossed the room toward the door just as Shua came strolling in. He spread out his arms. "Ah, thank you so much, _laleh_! We couldn't have done it without you!"

He grasped Rose by the shoulders and soundly planted a kiss on her cheek. Stanno could have killed him. That was so like that desert rat! So blithely familiar with everyone and everything.

Rose just giggled. "It was my pleasure," she replied. "I had fun."

"Well, I'm glad we could oblige," Shua told her, stepping aside to let her pass.

He continued on toward the corner where Stanno sat and dropped down onto the seat. He started to lift his feet up onto the table.

"Don't even think about it!" Stanno growled.

Shua lifted his hands, sarcastically apologetic, and lowered his feet to the floor. He sat back and surveyed the room with an approving nod. "Nice. Very nice. Couldn't have done it better myself."

"Of course you couldn't," Stanno scoffed. "You used to live in a hovel."

Shua didn't rise to the bait, something else that was so like him. "Your girl did a nice job."

Stanno hesitated. To presume too much could only lead to the most bitter disappointment, more than what he was even used to. Besides, in a couple of days she would be going home.

"She's not my girl."

Shua lifted a sly eyebrow at him. "Sure about that, are we?" He had slipped into the lazy drawl of his old street vernacular, something he knew would be irritating.

Stanno let out a bored, impatient sigh. "We're friends."

Shua gave a shrug, but the smirk on his face suggested disbelief. He looked toward the door. "_Hai_, Atash!"

"_Zhaarad_?" came the young man's reply from the lobby.

"That bottle behind the counter there. You see it?"

"I do."

"Fetch it here, will you? Couple glasses, too."

In a few moments, Atash walked into the dining room, holding a bottle of _halmi _in one hand and two short glasses in the other. He set them ceremoniously on the table, then took a step back with a little bow. "Anything else for you, _Zhaaradii_?" he asked in a simpering nasal voice.

Shua chuckled. "No, _l'haat_. Just turn in."

"Right." Atash turned to leave, waving over his shoulder. "'Night, _Zhaaradii_!"

Shua picked up the bottle and pulled the cork out with his teeth then spit it into his hand. He leaned forward and filled both the glasses with a generous shot. He handed one to Stanno, then clinked his glass against it. "_Ho'avaat_!"

"_Ho'avaat_," Stanno replied automatically. He took a swallow from his glass then held it up to inspect it in the lantern light. "Good batch," he remarked.

Shua nodded. "The _zhitai_ were plump this year, thank Ishvala." He sat back again, resting his elbows on the bolster behind him, and he lifted his chin and began to sing. It was a tune that Stanno hadn't heard in a very long time, one with heavily suggestive lyrics that would not be heard outside of a seedy tavern and brothel, which happened to be where he heard it last. It brought back a lot of memories, ones that he would rather not be reminded of.

He swore under his breath. "Shut it!" he grumbled.

Shua stopped singing and let out a chuckle. "Ah, now, was a time Vashto's place was nigh to your mother's teat."

"That was a long time ago," Stanno replied with crisp, patrician enunciation.

Shua took a sip from his glass. "Ollie's folks're as quality as you can hope for, I sing it to her."

"Does she know what it means?"

Shua gave another low chuckle. "She does now. So…" he drawled. "This _friend_ of yours…"

Stanno frowned. "What about her?"

"She's a sweet thing, Ammy or no."

"I'm aware of that."

"I'll say you are. You like her. She likes you. That's plain enough."

Was it? Stanno was sure it was on his part. Rose was just naturally friendly. She wasn't _bold_, though. She wouldn't throw herself at him. And he wouldn't force himself on her. That wasn't what he wanted.

Back in the days before the Exile, when he wanted a woman, he would simply go to the _falshaii _at Vashto's or some other place. When he wanted a wife, he approached Rada's father in the proper, customary manner, fed the girl pretty compliments as needed, and treated her with respect and courtesy—outwardly, anyway. He had no experience of anything in between. He never had to _win _anyone. He wasn't like Atash, whose gawky schoolboy efforts got him Pashmina. He wasn't like Andakar, whose high-minded devotion stole Rada away.

Stanno closed his eyes. _Stop fooling yourself. You know why you lost her._ _Can you trust yourself to not lose Rose as well. Can you even manage to win her heart? _

"Ah, now, give yourself some credit, _l'haat_."

Stanno flinched and scowled. "Bloody hell, Shua!" he snarled. "Don't do that!"

Shua gave him a curious look. "Do what?"

"Don't…read my bloody mind like that! I_ hate _when you do that!"

Shua let out a derisive snort and picked up the bottle of colorless _halmi. _"See this? I can see through you better. Always could. Why you can't see yourself, Ishvala knows."

Since the bottle was in hand, Stanno held out his glass for a top off and Shua obliged. "That's the problem. I see myself a little too well."

Shua gave his head a noncommittal tilt. "Oh, I don't know. You're not the God-cursed viper spawn you used to be."

"Oh, _thanks_!"

"My pleasure," Shua returned easily. He put the bottle down and frowned in thought for a moment. "You went and grew a soul or a heart or something. Whatever it is, whether you own up to it or not, it's starting to show. So much so that a fine lass like Rose can see it." He poked Stanno in the ribs to emphasize each syllable as he added, "So why don't you?"

Stanno let out a slow sigh, taking another drink. "It doesn't matter, anyway. She's leaving the day after tomorrow," he said.

"Well, then, you've got a whole day to grow a pair!" Shua countered impatiently. "Tell her to come back! Ask her to stay!" He threw his hands up in the air, careful to not spill his drink. "Tell her you love her, damn your hide!"

The familiar buzzing sensation in his face started to set in. Shua's _halmi _could do that quickly, especially neat. Setting down his still full glass, Stanno gave a quiet, grim laugh. "This is how you talked me into this," he said, waving his hand at their surroundings.

"What? This?" Shua looked around the room and up at the ceiling. "This is _grand_, this is!" he declared indignantly.

Stanno rose to his feet. "Thanks for the drink, Shua. I'm going home to bed. I have to look like the chieftain of Kanda tomorrow."

"Good luck with that."

With quiet snort, Stanno moved around the table and headed for the door. Then he paused and turned around. "I…um…might think about what you said, though."

Shua grinned at him and raised his glass. "Good luck with that, too."

* * *

**As you may have noticed, I've been throwing in new Ishvalan words that I just make up as I go. I just run syllables through my head until they sound good. Here's a rough rundown of the recent ones:**

_**Laleh:**_** Depending on who is saying it and how they're saying it, it could mean girl, lass, daughter, girlfriend.**

_**Lahaat: **_**Similiarly, boy, lad, son, boyfriend. Shua sometimes contracts it as **_**l'haat.**_

**The sentence that Shua says, **_**Yshtue als ta niye**_**, means something like **_**whatever she has, **_**referring to Pashmina's aunt's rugs. **

_**Fyil: **_**Sometimes I cheat and take an actual word for something and tweak it around. In this case, **_**fyil **_**is phylo dough.**

**In the previous chapter, I used the word **_**kalcheh**_**, which I got from caliche, which is a type of hardpan made of calcium carbonate. It's like chunks of concrete that form naturally under the ground and it's a pain in the ass when you're trying to plant stuff.**

**I think that's everything. Let me know if you have any questions.**


	11. Chapter 11

**I'd like to take a moment to thank all you kind reviewers! I appreciate your feedback so much!**

* * *

**Chapter 11**

"Ooh, _Zhaarana_, don't you look fine!" Pashmina breathed.

"Thank you!" Rose couldn't resist the temptation to give a little twirl. She loved this dress. It was black with a pattern of bright red flowers and it hugged her figure in a very flattering way. Her new red wool shawl went with it perfectly, and she would need it today, since the day had dawned overcast and rather cool.

"I hope it doesn't rain," Rose said. "There's so much going on today, it would spoil it."

"I _know_!" Pashmina agreed emphatically. "That would be _awful_!"

Both Atash and Pashmina were practically giddy with excitement, and Rose was happy to get caught up in it.

She had learned that the day's festivities would begin with a ceremony of thanksgiving in the temple, which involved blessing baskets of food that would then furnish a lavish midday meal. This in itself was the usual observance on this day, but this year marked the first attempt at recreating the harvest festival as it had been done in Old Ishval, which involved games, races, dancing, and singing. This information had been gleaned partly from the surviving histories that the Ishvalans were able to rescue from the war.

More in-depth and colorful details had come from the recorded accounts of the Xingese ambassadors and merchants who had visited Ishval during its princely era. The festival was an eagerly anticipated event every year, a time when the Ishvalans really cut loose, at least according to the Xingese. Once the more solemn rites were observed, the festivities could get a little out of hand, due mainly to copious amounts of alcohol. This was something that the _khorovar _and his chieftains were hoping to discourage.

In this more modern era, the competitive events would include a football match between mixed teams of Ishvalans and Amestrians, a horse race, and something a little more unique to present day Ishval, a race through the streets between the rickshaw pullers. They would each have a couple of girls in their 'shaws, just to add a little more of a challenge. The _khorovar _was of the It's-All-Fun-And-Games-Till-Someone-Loses-An-Eye school of thought, but the race was popularly supported.

Another observance from ancient times was the royal procession. In Old Ishval, the prince would ride through the streets to greet his subjects and receive their adulation. One of the chieftains mentioned it, but the_ khorovar_ nipped the idea in the bud, saying that it would be a cold, snowy day in Ishval before something that would be allowed to happen.

The evening would see more eating, drinking, and the Ishvalan tradition of dancing in the streets, something that had a more distinct meaning to Ishvalans than it did to Amestrians, being more than just jumping around in the middle of the street when something good happened. The word for it, _breomahata,_ literally meant "knotted rope." It nearly died out during the civil war, but with Ishval's rebirth it came back with a vengeance.

Since the marketplace was as good as shut down while everyone made their family preparations, Pashmina had brought rolls and honey from home and she set up Rose's breakfast in the dining room. Atash was outside, decorating the doorway with bundles of barley, millet, and rye, something that would be seen on every house in Ishval.

Rose was about to go into the dining room when a voice called from outside the front door.

"_Ishvala nadrii ho'avaat!_"

"_Ho'avaat!_" Atash was heard to reply.

The young man stepped into the lobby, followed by Stanno, dressed in what were probably his very finest clothes. He wore a neatly pressed linen shirt, dark trousers tucked into leather boots, a carefully tied _chuva_,and over all this, a long dark red wool coat. He looked handsome and dashing and exotic, and the very fact that he did made her feel too shy to tell him so.

Instead, she exclaimed, "You look really nice!"

It fell woefully short as far as she was concerned, but Stanno didn't seem to notice. He smiled and inclined his head modestly, but not before giving her a pleased look of appraisal. "Ah, _Zhaarana_, a woman of your beauty praises me twice over!"

Well, that was a pretty thing to say, a lot better than what she came up with. Back home, sometimes the workmen that came to the counter for lunch would venture to tell her _gosh, you look purty today, Rose, uh-hyuk! _Which was nice, but it never raised a blush to her cheeks like this did.

Leaving her to blush, Stanno turned to Atash and Pashmina. "Is everything ready?"

"Of course it is!" Pashmina declared. "Everything is as neat as a pin!"

"Is Fuhrer Grumman coming straight here?" Atash asked.

"I don't know yet," Stanno replied. "Be prepared for anything."

"Oh, gosh!" Rose breathed, still a bit incredulous at the turn of events. "I'm going to be staying in the same hotel as the Fuhrer!" She gave Stanno a slightly anxious look. "Are you sure that's all right? It's not a security problem or anything?"

Stanno stepped up to Rose and took her hand in both of his. "Of course, it's all right," he said with a warm, reassuring smile. "It's my hotel and I said so. Besides, the Fuhrer ought to count himself lucky he gets to be under the same roof as you."

He lifted her hand to his lips and gave her knuckles a quick kiss. A pleasantly sharp tingle shot up her arm and she had to let out a giggle. As he left for the train station, she found herself very much looking forward to his return.

8888

"You might want to wipe that look of murder off your face, red-eyed brother."

The _khorovar _made no effort to follow his advice and merely grunted in reply.

"Ah, now, Miles," Shua remarked, "you can't blame the fellow. Grumman decides at the last minute that Ishval is more attractive than everything else demanding his attention." He leaned toward Andakar. "Makes you feel like a melon he's wagging his head over like some old _baata_ in the marketplace!"

Andakar gave a grim smile. "My thoughts exactly."

Stanno had just arrived, being the last of the chieftains to do so. Even Dejan and his singers had gotten there ahead of him. At least he got there before Kaihan and his _tagma_, whom he had left in his dust back on the road. This day was getting better and better.

He doubted whether Rose had dressed up solely for his sake, but he went ahead and cherished that notion privately. He certainly had her in the forefront of his mind when he was getting ready this morning. _God _she was beautiful! He was nearly at a loss for words, but he acquitted himself rather well, dredging up the old charm that had served him well back in the day. This time, though, he meant it.

"Grumman's a canny old bastard, all right," Miles was saying. "There isn't anything he doesn't weigh up to the last ounce, whether it's melons or political strategies."

"Well, it did get him reelected," Shua remarked. "Much to the brigadier's sorrow."

"We tried," Andakar said. "Mustang carried Ishval, if you can overlook the irony."

"I didn't vote for him," Miles put in. Everyone knew that, anyway.

Shua laughed and clapped him on the back. "No offense to our warrior princess, but I'm not sure I want to be married to the leader of the country. Too much work."

Miles gave a conceding shrug. "She's not the handshaking, baby-kissing type."

"Not like our Roy-boy."

"Which is why he's trotting along at Grumman's heels," Miles smirked. "Protecting his interests."

Shua chuckled and rubbed his hands together. "Watching the two of them out-smarm each other ought to be worth a few laughs."

"Still," Miles went on. "Grumman _is_ the leader of this country, and we will show him all due respect."

"Of _course_ we will." Shua wandered over to whisper something to Dejan while his girls giggled nervously amongst themselves.

It seemed almost odd that Ishval should be so excited about this visit. Grumman had been out here before, after all, back when Ishval was still rebuilding. They had since come into their own, and the excitement came more from a chance to show off a little. This harvest festival was a celebration not only of their growing prosperity and good fortune, but the rebirth of their culture, for which they had Ishvala to thank, not Grumman, as Andakar pointed out more than once. Stanno listened a little distractedly to the political chit-chat. He was more concerned about getting back into town and getting all the formalities over with so he could relax and properly enjoy Rose's company.

Andakar made a quiet clearing of his throat sound. It could have been a preface to saying something or just clearing his throat. The fact that it was quiet and no one else seemed to notice it made Stanno think that it might have been directed at him. He glanced at the _khorovar_, who was still gazing down the track.

"I'm to ask you if you want to join us for the holy day meal," Andakar said, keeping his voice low.

Stanno nearly gave a start. He was sure that Andakar had spoken to him, but he would have thought that he was the last person he would say that to. "Are you serious?"

Andakar turned a look on him that clearly said _do I look like I'm joking?_ Actually, he looked like that most of the time.

Since his return to Ishval, the only time Stanno had been asked to share in another family's holy day meal was a couple of years ago. The woman who ran the tea stand down the street had invited him to join her, her mumbling grandmother, her homely sister, and her snotty-nosed nephew. He couldn't wait to get out of there. He was purposefully rude so as to never be invited back. It worked.

This was different. This was significant. This was acceptance into a circle that, as far as he knew, had been closed to him. Andakar's invitation, though, was a little less than inviting. "Not your idea?"

Andakar gave a stir of his shoulders, as though something wasn't sitting on them right. "Rada told me to ask you."

Stanno nodded. He found himself wishing he could have been a fly on that wall. There were only two people in the world who could intimidate the infamous Scar of Ishval. One was his master, the other was his wife.

As curiously tempting as the offer was, though—to dine with the _khorovar, _with whom he was, after all, a social equal—he had other priorities. "That is a handsome invitation," Stanno said, "but I may have other plans."

"_Zhaarana _Rose is being invited as well," Andakar replied, a little terse weariness in his voice.

"Ah." That put a much different complexion on things. Stanno tried very hard not to grin. _Oh, Rada, you dear, clever girl!_

Andakar raised an eyebrow at him. "The two of you disappeared yesterday, so I hear. For some time."

Now he had to grin. "Oh, now, I didn't think you listened to gossip, _Zhaarad Khorovar_."

"I'm just stating a fact."

"Of course. Well, as it turns out, you heard correctly. We went out to the foothills to plant acorns."

Andakar gave him a curious, slightly suspicious look. Stanno shrugged. "No, really. That's what we did." He paused. Well, why not? He added quietly, "And I told her all my wretched secrets. She still likes me."

Stanno met the challenge of Andakar's gaze and found something he didn't think he would ever see. A glimmer of approval. A tiny one, to be sure, but it was there.

Miles checked his pocket watch. "O-eight-fifty," he announced. He looked down the track where it disappeared into the distance, and then he pointed. "There! I can just see the smoke."

By now, the _tagma _squad had finally trotted up. Kaihan dismounted, tossing the reins of his horse to one of his men, and he stepped forward to join the group on the platform. Stanno spared him a mere glance as he came to stand beside him.

Kaihan glanced around at the gathering and nodded approvingly. "A fine showing, I'd say!"

One of the other chieftains, Kamyar of Wahir, gave the overcast sky a dour look. He was the sort that gave nearly everything a dour look. It was probably why he had been elected chieftain of his district. He made such dire predictions about everything that no one was ever disappointed when he was wrong. "Looks like rain," he muttered.

Andakar remarked mildly, "Only Amestrians complain about the rain, _Zhaarad _Kamyar."

Kamyar gave a vague roll of his narrow shoulders. "Even so…it could ruin the festival."

Stanno glanced up. This late in the fall, it was generally clear and dry, the summer rains being long gone. For it to be cloudy at this time of year was not unheard of, but it wasn't common. It had grown a little chilly as well. He thought it was rather pleasant. If it rained, they could move indoors. He and Rose, sitting together, perhaps in his favorite tavern, perhaps at a tea house, or even at the hotel, gazing out at the rain…

"You've got sawdust on your coat."

"Hm? What?" Stanno frowned down instinctively at his coat, which was spotless. Then he heard Kaihan chuckle. Stanno spared him a withering look of disdain. "Moron!"

Andakar shot them a quick, warning frown, and Kaihan straightened himself up sharply, trying to look deferential and impressive at the same time. _Bootlicker_, Stanno thought darkly. He was just on the verge of making a comment about goats, but he remembered the promise he had made Rose. Kaihan should consider himself lucky.

The sound of the locomotive could be heard clearly now, and in a matter of minutes the black engine came into view, slowing down and giving a loud whistle as if in greeting. Steam billowed in the cool air as the Fuhrer's train pulled into the station, its brakes squealing gently and its pair of small Amestrian flags rippling in the breeze.

It was a short, private train, made up of the locomotive and tender and two passenger cars. The windows had dark green curtains, shielding the passengers from view or, more likely, the aim of possible assassins. It was sleek and clean, unlike the goods-and-passenger train that came through every couple of days. That was an aging workhorse. This one was a thoroughbred. Stanno raised an eyebrow. _Must be nice, having something like that come with the job. _

After a few moments, the door to the first passenger car opened and two people stepped down. One was a large man wearing a dark suit and dark glasses. The other was a woman in uniform. The Fuhrer's bodyguard and secretary. They stood stiffly at attention while, a moment later, Fuhrer Grumman stepped down from the car. He wasn't a big man. There was nothing particularly imposing about him. He had a grandfatherly, almost comical look about him, and it wasn't hard to picture him haggling at a fruit stall. This, of course, belied the corkscrew mind that lay beneath.

He was followed by Brigadier General Roy Mustang, who stepped down carefully, his arms being full with a small child wearing a pink coat and matching beret. Just behind him came Mrs. Mustang, dressed in a soft grey suit jacket and narrow skirt.

Miles stepped forward first and snapped a salute. "_Doishteve na Ishval_, Excellency!"

Grumman returned his salute. "Thank you, Colonel!" He glanced up at the sky. "I thought it was always sunny in Ishval," he joked.

"We're having a cold snap, sir," Miles admitted. Stanno was sure he heard a patronizing tone.

"Well, then, maybe I won't have to break a sweat for once. Governor Ruhad!" Grumman moved past Miles, holding out his hand to Andakar.

"Sir." Andakar took the Fuhrer's hand and made only the merest nod with his head. That was about all the deference anyone in the government got from him. Grumman seemed to realize that he would have to be satisfied with it.

"I'm looking forward to this shindig of yours, Governor," Grumman went on.

"We're honored that you could join us, sir," Andakar replied, although not by much, knowing Andakar.

"Thank you, thank you!" Grumman said jovially as he moved along.

Stanno offered him a bit more of a bow than Andakar did. Yes, perhaps it should have galled that this Amestrian thought of himself as their overlord, but to give him credit, he didn't throw it around. It was either genuine respect for the people he governed or very good politics. Stanno suspected more of the latter.

Grumman considered Stanno for a moment with a furrowed brow, then he brightened. "Stanno Dreva, Chieftain of Kanda, if I recall!"

Well, that was fairly impressive. Either that or he did his research on the trip out. "I'm honored that you remember, sir," Stanno replied, shaking the man's proffered hand.

"I never forget a face," Grumman replied. Turning to Kaihan, he said, "Yours, I think, is a new one."

"_Zhaarad _Fuhrer! Captain Kaihan of the _tagma_!" Kaihan smartly laid his right fist across his chest and dipped his right shoulder down in a bow. It was something he'd picked up from the histories about the old days, when the _tagma_ was the prince's personal guard. Stanno rolled his eyes. _Presumptuous little shit._

"Ah, yes!" Grumman said with a nod. "Very good, very good!" Leaving Kaihan to simper, he moved on to the other chieftains, all the names of whom he remembered. You had to hand it to him, he knew how to work a crowd.

Shua then approached him, holding out his hand. "Glad you could make it, _Zhaarad_!"

"Ah, Shua!" Grumman greeted him like an old drinking buddy, which he probably was. "I hope this hotel of yours is five star."

"Oh, well, now, I never said that," Shua replied with a shake of his finger. "But you've got some very lovely company. She certainly adds a bit more shine to the place."

"Oho, is that so?" Grumman chuckled, giving a quick preen to his mustache. "A mystery lady! Very intriguing!"

Stanno frowned a little to himself. That was the last thing he thought he had to worry about.

Shua then gave a nod to Dejan, who turned to his girls. His daughter Mika had the double-headed drum strapped to her shoulders and she watched him, poised and ready, while he brought his _zurla_, a wooden double-reed horn, up to his lips. He began to play a quick, lively introduction, the _zurla _making a loud, shrill sound. It took Grumman a little by surprise, but he kept a beaming smile on his face, clapping along as the girls sang merrily.

The song was _Grandfather Went to the Marketplace_, which told of the misadventures of a hapless old man sent by his wife to the marketplace, where he was distracted by the pretty girls, completely forgetting his errand and getting hotly scolded by his wife. Grumman apparently hadn't done quite enough research to know this, something Shua, who must have dreamed this up, must have been counting on.

It was all Stanno could do to keep a straight face. The other Ishvalans were either attempting to do the same or were trying to hide scandalized expressions. Stanno glanced quickly at Andakar, whose face was nearly unreadable except for the twitch in the muscles near his mouth as he suppressed a grin. Miles looked darkly disapproving. Even Mustang, who knew enough Ishvalan to get by, was biting his lip.

The girls ended their song and Grumman applauded them lightly. "Thank you, ladies! That was lovely!"

Miles stepped forward, gesturing toward the transport vehicles parked by the station building. "If you'll come this way, Excellency, we'll take you and your party into Ishval." Behind the Fuhrer's back, Miles gave Shua a wry look of reproof, which Shua completely ignored.

Leaving his staff and the train crew to take care of the luggage, Grumman headed for the olive drab trucks. "Haven't ridden in one of those for a while," he remarked with a chuckle.

General Mustang and his wife followed along with Andakar, who had taken charge of their daughter. Considering how easily he could frighten small children, the little girl seemed perfectly happy to be perched on his arm.

Stanno felt a nudge at his shoulder. "Give me a lift back," Shua said. "I'm giving up my seat to Grumman."

"Fine." Stanno headed toward the back of the train station where he had parked his truck. It was a less stylish vehicle even than the transport trucks, but at least he owned it.

The two men climbed in and Stanno turned the ignition and shifted into first. As they drove away, Shua rolled up the passenger window and leaned back, bursting into uproarious laughter.

"Oh, _God_, that was perfect!" Shua cried when he could finally breathe. "Did you see Miles? I thought he was gonna shit a cactus!"

Stanno had to grin. "You're a bit too clever for your own good, _vatrish_. One of these days you'll get yourself in trouble."

"I've spent most of my life getting out of all the trouble people tell me I'm in for," Shua replied, still chuckling.

Stanno shook his head. "And what was this business about telling Grumman about Rose?" he demanded. "He was nearly drooling on himself! This is a hotel we're running, not a brothel."

"Oh, go on with you!" Shua chided him impatiently. "You've got nothing to worry about, particularly if you let the old boy know the girl's spoken for. Unless, of course," he added slyly, "you can't work up the courage."

"Who says I haven't?"

Shua gave Stanno a shrewd look. "Is that so?"

Stanno just smiled, letting Shua call his bluff if he wanted to. Rose's eyes had grown wide and practically glowed when she saw him this morning. He had been bold enough to kiss her hand. There was a time in his life when he would have pressed his advantage and gotten a lot bolder than that, back when a woman with no family was fair game. But where, after all, had that gotten him?

He never thought he would start thinking like Andakar, of all people, but he had since come to realize that what a woman with no family needed was a champion. And by Ishvala, that would be him.

* * *

**That song Dejan's girls sing is based on a real Macedonian song, "Old Man Goes to the Market." Other than the title, I don't know what it actually translates to. One of these days, I'm going to set up a Tumblr page so I can post all the music that accompanies this series. **


	12. Chapter 12

**I added a bit to the train station scene in Chapter 11, if you want to take a look at it before you begin this.**

**Chapter 12**

The hairs on Rose's arms rose as she broke into goosebumps. She was surrounded by rich, somber harmonies as the Ishvalan worshippers raised their voices in response to the chants of _Saahad _Bozidar. She had come partly out of courtesy, partly out of curiosity, but mostly because Stanno had wanted her so much to come. Standing beside her in the packed temple, he sang along with the others, picking a lower part of the harmony. He had a nice voice, and Rose couldn't help wondering if he was perhaps showing off a little for her. Not that she minded.

She expected to feel a bit uncomfortable, inevitably drawing comparisons to the services that Cornello had choreographed. They were sterile things where the congregation simply sat and got preached at. Sometimes they would sing out of little paperbound booklets with songs in praise of Leto, bad poetry written by Cornello and set to familiar tunes. Rose mentally cringed when she thought back on it.

There was no need for little booklets here. Everyone knew what they were doing because they'd been doing it for centuries. What raised the flesh on Rose's arms wasn't just the music. There was a kind of organic strength to it all, a unity, not just between the people but between them and the earth and the sky and everything in between. It was stirring and comforting at the same time.

The chanting went on for about twenty minutes or so, and Rose would have been content to listen for hours, but then the gathering fell silent as Bozidar turned away from the simple, rough-hewn stone altar on the dais in the center of the temple. The old priest looked around at his people with a benevolent, affectionate smile.

_Oh dear, _Rose couldn't help thinking. _We're going to get preached at._

"_Ishvala nadrii ho'avaat!_" he proclaimed.

"_Ho'avaat!_" the congregation rumbled back.

Rose had originally thought that _ho'avaat_ was a kind of drinking toast. It was, but she had since learned that the whole phrase was a kind of greeting-blessing, meaning _may Ishvala grant you many years_. To simply say _many years _by itself presupposed the initial exhortation.

"My children," he went on, his voice carrying even out the door, where those who had not arrived in time to find a space inside were gathered. "I will say only a few words, and I will say them in Amestrian for the benefit of our esteemed guests." He gestured toward the other side of the temple interior where Fuhrer Grumman stood. Rose couldn't see him from where she was.

Surveying his people once again, Bozidar went on. "We have kept this holy day for centuries, even in times when there was very little to be thankful for. Now, in the fourth year of our return, we are enjoying a prosperity that our people have not seen since the age of princes. Indeed, we are even making an attempt to recreate the splendor of that golden time."

Bozidar raised a finger. "But even in these days of plenty, let us never forget those years of want. Let us never become complacent, or worse yet, proud. Let the humble thanks that we offer the Creator be not only for the abundance of what we have reaped, but for each other, for that is where our true wealth lies."

Bozidar turned back to the altar. Rose was almost startled. _That's it? _Cornello would go on and on, alternately cajoling and threatening, reminding his flock of their financial obligation several times throughout and tossing out the occasional magic trick to keep them hooked. Rose recalled how she would strain to catch every word, hoping against hope, relying on the promise Cornello tantalized her with. _Stupid bastard_. Stanno had told her that brevity was something of a trademark style with Bozidar, who was not a waster of words. He wasn't kidding.

It was just as well that the sermon had been short because the rest of the ritual took a while. They had to stand through it all, as there were no seats in the temple, but Rose was used to spending a fair amount of time on her feet. After some more chants and responses came the blessing of the baskets. Each household had brought representative items that would make up their family feast: grains, fruits, meat, eggs, cheese, and honey. Each family stepped up in turn to the altar, upon which sat a large, shallow brass bowl from which the smoke of incense arose. Bozidar and one of the other priests stood at either end of the altar and held each basket over the smoke for a few moments as they spoke a blessing. While this was going on, the congregation softly sang a kind of hymn, or at least as softly as several hundred people could.

Rose glanced out of the corner of her eye at Stanno and smiled. He had turned into rather a sweetheart since the first time she met him, which seemed like a lot longer ago than just a few days. He stuck close by her when Fuhrer Grumman arrived at the hotel and she was introduced. There had been a suggestive glint in the old man's eye when he clasped her hand, which she was sure was mostly innocent, but you could never tell. Stanno had kept a protective arm around her shoulders throughout. Rose didn't think that was necessary. She was perfectly capable of fending off advances from elderly gentlemen, even the nation's leader, without creating an incident. But Stanno's concern was sweet and flattering, nonetheless.

Stanno glanced back at her, pausing a moment from his singing to give her a warm smile. She found herself thinking that she wouldn't mind advances from him, and she quickly bit her lip to keep from giggling. She probably shouldn't be thinking about stuff like that inside the temple. She composed her expression into one of reverence, and she heard Stanno give a quiet snicker and nudge her. She gave him a whispered _shh _and a warning nudge back, but she broke into a smile.

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"I'm so glad you could both come!" Rada declared.

The inhabitants of the cul-de-sac where the _khorovar _and his family lived were gathered outside along with their guests. Grumman stood near the fountain listening to Shua rattle off with one of his stories. Some of the adults were trying to herd all the children together so that Mustang's wife could take a group picture. It involved a lot of squealing, giggling, and coaxing.

Stanno was not comfortable entering this little world. He had varying degrees of history with them, not all of it pleasant. A few heads turned toward him with a few surprised and (to his mind) judgmental looks. Then Rada came outside. It was clear that she was very busy getting her meal prepared, but she seemed to make a point of giving them a cordially affectionate greeting. Before she ran off, Stanno grabbed her hand. "Thank you for this," he said.

The smile she gave him let him know that she understood how much he meant that. Humility wasn't something he pulled off very well. Neither was gratitude. But she understood him well enough, far better than he ever understood her.

"Can I give you a hand?" Rose asked.

Stanno felt a mild sense of panic, not wanting to be left alone. Luckily, Rada waved her hand.

"Oh, no, that's all right!" she answered. "You're our guest!"

"Oh, please!" Rose insisted. "I'd like to help."

Rada dimpled sweetly, something that pierced Stanno's heart a number of ways. "Come along then!"

As the two women went back inside Rada's house, Stanno watched them with a sinking feeling, which sank a little further when he heard footsteps approaching.

"Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in!" Miles remarked.

The colonel and the _khorovar_ moved to flank him. The colonel had spoken easily, with only the barest hint of rancor.

"He was invited, Miles," Andakar said.

"Of course! I wouldn't think he would be that much of a _yaakhtai _to invite himself."

Stanno didn't much care to be spoken about in the third person. "I'm standing right here!" He spread his hands to indicate his feet.

"So I noticed." Miles pointed to Stanno and addressed himself to Andakar. "He's eating at _your_ house, right?"

"Yes. He and _Zhaarana _Rose as well as Fuhrer Grumman," the _khorovar _replied. "It's going to be a crowded table."

"Good," Miles said. He dropped a hand heavily on Stanno's shoulder in what was probably supposed to look like a friendly gesture. "Because if he came to my house, we'd eat _him_ up, and he might not go down so well."

Stanno would never quite understand how one man who had committed brutal murder could become so well-loved, while another man whose sins were neither quite so grand nor so well publicized should have the more difficult time overcoming a questionable reputation.

"Kiss my tawny backside, Miles," Stanno growled. Attitude might have something to do with it.

Miles just chuckled. "Not even if it snows," he said as he walked away.

Stanno knew better than to expect any defense from Andakar. He let out a sigh. "You're going to tell me I deserved that."

"I'm inviting you into my home," Andakar replied, a little impatiently. "Be content with that."

"Ah! No, Rada invited me!" Stanno countered. "And you do whatever she tells you, don't you?"

Andakar gave him a narrow look and didn't reply. Stanno grinned smugly to himself. It didn't exactly qualify as revenge, but it afforded a certain satisfaction, nonetheless.

8888

"You know, I'm feeling a little guilty right now." Grumman remarked in a sort of jovial, confiding tone, addressing himself to the women as if neither Andakar nor Stanno were there. "I've got a mountain of paperwork sitting on my desk," he went on, "and a bevy of frustrated advisors wandering about the hallowed halls of Central Command, and here I am, miles away, enjoying a splendid meal in the company of two very attractive young women!" He chuckled as he reached for another skewer of grilled goat and winked at Rose. "Maybe I'm not feeling so guilty."

Rose let out a giggle. Stanno tried not to roll his eyes. It was indecent, a man of his age and position flirting so shamelessly. He leaned a little closer to Rose, touching his shoulder to hers, just to remind her that he was there to come to her rescue if she needed him. Andakar seemed content to let his wife play hostess and expertly fend off the old man's blandishments.

"Surely you're not neglecting your work, are you, _Zhaarad _Grumman?" Rada teased him.

Grumman swallowed a mouthful and dabbed at his mustache with his napkin. He chuckled. "Nothing that won't benefit from sitting and stewing in its own juices over the weekend, trust me, ma'am." He held up the skewer in his hand. "Like this fine piece of meat," he said. He leaned a little closer to Rada. "Where I come from, goat isn't considered haute cuisine, but this is melt-in-your-mouth stuff right here. I'd love to pass on your marinade recipe to the cooks back home."

"Oh, it's just a bit of citrus juice, vinegar, honey, and garlic, Zhaarad," Rada replied with a little shrug.

"It's marvelous!" Grumman said, taking another bite and munching on it.

Stanno was inclined to agree. The feast Rada had prepared was magnificent. The table was laden with dishes. There was the goat meat on skewers that the Fuhrer was enjoying so much, marinated within an inch of its life and grilled. There was _bastiya_—chicken, eggs, and almonds baked to perfection inside paper-thin layers of _fyil_ and sprinkled with cinnamon. There were savory rice dishes, roasted vegetables, plates of olives, dates, fluffy sesame rolls, stacks of fresh flatbread, chunks of tangy cheese, and even wine to wash it down. Stanno couldn't remember the last time he'd had a meal like this.

Stanno couldn't help but envy Andakar. This house could have been his. That beautiful wife could have been his. Those children who were alternately eyeing him and Grumman with varying degrees of curiosity could have been his. Even the eldest, the one fathered by the alchemist but for all intents and purposes as much Andakar's own as the other three. She seemed to have taken after her adoptive father rather than her mother, apparently not having Rada's more forgiving nature. She watched him less with curiosity than with caution, possibly judgmental. It was all his own fault, really, no matter that he felt at the time that he was acting within his rights. The woman he was going to marry had had relations with another man, plain and simple. Which it was not, of course, but he was not the sort of man to see that, not then.

These reflections would have been unbearable were it not for the woman sitting beside him. The fact that she was Amestrian had long since stopped making any difference to him. Not only had she drawn out qualities in him that he didn't even know he had, she inspired him to search for more. She made him feel as though the impossible was something he could strive for. He could have a beautiful wife and thriving children. He could be compassionate and noble. He could make her happy. He could be a better man. All these things were within his grasp. All he needed to do was to tell her so. First, though, he would need to find not only the opportunity, but the confidence, both of which he was beginning to run out.


	13. Chapter 13

**I didn't really need to even have Roy and Riza in this story. It seemed to make sense that they would make an appearance at an event like this, but they don't really have much to do. I guess Roy just wants to keep an eye on Grumman.**

**Chapter 13**

"…and even though I am unable to be with you at this time, please know that you have my very warmest regards as well as my continued support. My very best wishes to all of you. Yours very sincerely, Henrietta Bradley."

As Riza folded the letter, she smiled at the crowd as they replied with applause and ululating calls. As this died away, she leaned toward the microphone again. "And let me add that both Brigadier General Mustang and I echo that sentiment from the bottom of our hearts!"

This was met with an even more enthusiastic response. Riza couldn't help but break into a broader smile, marveling at this peoples' capacity for—perhaps forgiveness wasn't the right word. Generosity might have been closer.

When they first presented themselves to the Ishvalan people after reconstruction had begun, the feeling they met with was challenging, but not accusing. It wasn't _how dare you show your_ _faces here _but rather _now that you're here, show us what you can do. _What Ishval had become had once been only a distant dream. Now it was a reality, and Riza was deeply grateful that despite all she had done to help exterminate these people, she was able to have a hand in helping them flourish. That seemed to carry more weight than what she had done all those years ago.

"And now," she continued, "may I present His Excellency, Fuhrer Montgomery Grumman."

Grumman stepped forward to the microphone, tipping his hat to Riza as she passed. She smiled back at him but then couldn't help smirking a little to herself. The Fuhrer's reception from the Ishvalans was cordial, but not as warm as the one she got.

She returned to her folding chair between Roy and Scar, who had Christine on his lap. Riza was content to let her stay there. It amused her to think that the man who had once terrorized the country was a gooey mess when it came to small children. The brigadier and the _khorovar _had already addressed the crowd. Scar had kept it fairly brief, mainly advising that the festivities not get too out of hand, probably nothing they hadn't already heard. Roy had given a stirring talk about his heartfelt commitment to the Ishvalan people (without trying too hard to sound like a campaign speech), which was well received.

"You look smug," Roy remarked.

"They liked me best," Riza replied with a sly little smile.

"Well, you're prettier than the rest of us," Roy replied.

"That's got nothing to do with it."

"No, of course not. Then again," Roy added with a nod toward his mentor and rival, "His Excellency hasn't said anything yet."

Grumman cleared his throat softly and spoke into the microphone. "You know, every time I do one of these things, they always save me for last. By that time, everybody's sick of the speechifying and they're itching to get on to the good stuff. I don't think I could say anything that hasn't already been said, except…" He threw in a bit of a dramatic pause, "Let the games begin!"

A roar erupted from the crowd and Grumman beamed at them. No one could hear Riza mutter _that old fart_, but Roy didn't need to read her lips to figure it out.

The first event was the football game. The two amateur teams that had evolved over the past few years were made up mostly of Ishvalans but also several soldiers and even one Amestrian civilian. Jean Havoc played wingback for the Jackals. The other team was called the Scorpions. They had even managed to get themselves some proper equipment, like shoes and team jerseys. The Jackals wore red and the Scorpions wore gold. There had been some discussion off and on about forming a professional team and joining the Eastern Regional League, but in the meantime, they just played for fun. The losing team would stand the winners a round of drinks.

The citizens of Ishval were evenly divided as far as team loyalty, supporting whichever team had friends or family. Many of the spectators held sticks with either red or gold streamers on them, waving them in the air when their team made a goal. Standing on the sidelines, Rose found herself cheering for the Jackals, particularly when they won. She had nothing against any of the players on the opposing team; she had simply developed an aversion to scorpions.

From the football field it wasn't too far to hike to get to where the horse race would soon get under way. The track, which was roughly a mile and a half, had been marked out around the perimeter of what used to be a field of barley. There were seven racers, four of them Ishvalan—all members of the _tagma_—and three Amestrians soldiers. Rose and Stanno found a spot at the edge of the track close to the starting/finish line just as the racers were leading up their horses.

Rose didn't know much about horses or riding, but when she was little, her grandparents would take her with them when they went to the racetrack in New Optain. She recalled that the races themselves were two minutes of sheer excitement, and the stretch of time in between seemed interminable. While her grandfather stood in line at the betting window and her grandmother sipped lemonade and gossiped with the other ladies, Rose would play under the bleachers and eat corndogs and cotton candy and drink root beer. She was struck with a wave of nostalgia.

"I could really go for some cotton candy right now," she said wistfully.

"I'll bring it up at the next chieftains' council," Stanno said. "Next year's festival, you'll have all the cotton candy you want." He put his arm around her shoulders and lowered his head to speak close to her ear. "You'll be here, won't you?"

Rose giggled and turned to smile at him. "I wouldn't miss it for the world!"

8888

Havoc moved among the spectators, taking wagers and writing them down in a small notebook. Gambling was one of the few vices Stanno had never indulged in, being a highly potential loss of money. He had taken a risk on the hotel, though, and it would probably be some time before he actually got any money back on it. But with Rose under his arm, smiling up at him so sweetly, he could honestly say that the risk had been more than worth it.

He wanted nothing better than to pull her into his arms and kiss her there and then, and each passing hour brought on a new urgency to do just that. But he could lose everything he'd gained up to now by doing something that bold. He would wait until the moment when odds were more in his favor.

Colonel Miles' adjutant, Command Sergeant Major Benjamin, headed calmly toward the starting line, his horse's reins in one hand and his other arm around his wife Sima, who held a toddler in her arms. The sergeant relinquished his hold on his wife to salute his commanding officer.

"Show 'em how it's done, Benji," Miles told him, returning the salute.

"Leave it to me, Colonel," Benji replied with a grin. He turned to Sima and kissed her before leading his horse to the starting line.

Coming up behind him was Kaihan. He waved and grinned as several girls in the crowd called out his name. Stanno scowled. _What a poser!_ It wasn't that long ago that Kaihan was slouching around his goats, picking his teeth and scratching his ass. Stanno barely managed to keep the sneer of disgust off his face.

As Kaihan passed by them, he stopped. "Rose!" he called. "Wish me luck!"

Rose waved back at him. "Good luck!"

"No, no!" Kaihan beckoned to her. "Not like that!"

Rose scoffed lightly. "Well, how then?" She left Stanno's side to move closer to Kaihan.

Stanno stared after her. _Where are you going? What are you doing?_

Kaihan tapped his cheek. "Like that."

Rose smirked indulgently and leaned in to kiss Kaihan's cheek. Kaihan quickly turned his head and planted a kiss on Rose's lips. While many of the nearby spectators whooped out a chorus of appreciative _eh-hs_, Stanno's mouth dropped open. An instant later he clamped it shut so he wouldn't be caught gaping.

Rose gave Kaihan a playful shove. "You sneak!" she cried with a laugh. "You'd better win now!"

Kaihan grinned with triumphant mischief. "I can't help but win now!" he declared.

As he led his horse at a trot toward the starting line, Rose rejoined Stanno, a smirk still playing on her lips.

"That was pretty cheeky," she remarked.

Stanno just nodded, managing a game smile. _Cheeky doesn't come close, that bastard!_

He couldn't and wouldn't blame Rose. She was open and friendly and kind and generous, perhaps to a fault, but that was one of the many reasons why he loved her. He had yet to tell her that, so he honestly had no right to complain. But it would have been gratifying if she had given Kaihan a good slap for his presumptuousness.

The riders spread themselves across the starting line. Havoc, who was taking on the dual role bookmaker and starter, raised a bright red bandanna tied to a stick above his head. When he was certain he had all the riders' attention, he brought it down swiftly, and with various yells and howls from the riders, the horses leaped forward. Hooves thundered on the ground as the racers began to cluster together, moving in toward the inside of the track. Three riders began to pull ahead of the others. Benji was holding the lead position, followed closely by the other soldier and one of the _tagma_ riders. Kaihan was in fourth place on the tail of his fellow _tagma_ officer. Stanno silently urged any of the others to put even more distance between them and Kaihan. He didn't even care who. As they flew past, he could see the look of grim determination on the _tagma_ captain's face. As much as a kiss from Rose would inspire any man to strive for the impossible, Stanno hoped that it simply wouldn't be enough and that Kaihan would not only lose, but lose miserably.

Being a former field of barley, the track was rectangular rather that an ellipse and the riders trampled across the corner as they made the first turn. On the far long edge of the field, Benji pulled out a little further ahead, eliciting cheers of encouragement from the spectators. The sergeant was a popular figure, not only among his fellow soldiers but also among the Ishvalans. The two riders behind him shifted their positions back and forth, keeping well in front of Kaihan, who kept a tenacious hold onto fourth place. Stanno began to relax a little, assured that the _tagma _captain didn't have a chance even for place or show, let alone win.

The positions held steady around the third and final turns, and just as Stanno was anticipating a really satisfying gloat at Kaihan's expense, the _tagma_ captain's horse put on a sudden burst of speed, shooting up on the outside. The other horses almost looked like they were slowing down. Stanno gazed in dismay and disbelief as Kaihan roared ahead in the final stretch and flew across the finish line half a length ahead of Benji.

Stanno's groan was drowned out by everyone else's cheers, including Rose's. Kaihan slowed to a canter and stood in his stirrups, waving to the spectators. As he passed, he waved to Rose and she waved back. _What can you possibly see in him? _Stanno thought, hoping Kaihan would tip out of his saddle in front of the other horses and get trampled. He wondered dismally if the captain would come and filch a victory kiss from Rose. But as he slowed his horse to a walk, the three _tagma_ officers who hadn't raced came running up. One of them took the horse's reins and the other two grabbed Kaihan to get him on their shoulders. They paraded him through the crowd, moving away from the track and away from where Rose and Stanno stood, much to Stanno's relief.

"Man!" Rose exclaimed. "That was amazing! Kaihan's earned himself some bragging rights!"

Stanno replied dryly, "The horse is the one who did all the work."

Rose gave him a nudge. "Oh, come on! Don't be a poor sport, Stanno!" she chided in what Stanno took as an affectionate tone. _That _would make it all worth it.

He smiled at her to make it look as though he had been joking. There was still plenty of this day left, and he was beginning to wonder how he was going to get through it.


	14. Chapter 14

**I hadn't really planned on this being so long. I sort of cut this chapter in half, so I've got probably a good three chapters plus an epilogue after this.**

* * *

**Chapter 14**

With the help of Fort Ishval's fleet of transport vehicles, those who had hiked out to the fields were able to ride back into town. Fuhrer Grumman joked that he wasn't sure if he could authorize them for civilian use since Ishval was about as far from being a disaster area as it could be. Mustang laughed along with him but looked as though he wished he'd thought of it first.

The trucks dropped their passengers off at one of the access roads just outside Gunja. Stanno was just helping Rose down from the back of the truck, letting his hands linger on her waist, when Pashmina came running up to them.

"_Zhaarana_ Rose!" she cried, agitated. "You've _got_ to help us!"

She sounded truly upset, and Stanno frowned at her in concern. "What's wrong?"

Pashmina rolled her eyes dramatically. "Yarisa was supposed to ride with me in Salar's 'shaw, but now her mother won't let her and Salar has to have two girls in his 'shaw to be in the race!" She clasped Rose's hands. "Will you ride with me, _please_?"

"_Shehai li Ishvala_!" Stanno groaned. "I thought somebody had died!"

Rose blew out a relieved breath and laughed. "You did kind of scare me, sweetie," she said. "Of course I will!"

"Now, wait a minute!" Stanno cut in. "Are you sure? It could be a rough ride."

Pashmina looked at him indignantly. "_Eh-h_! And of course you're not worried about me!"

Stanno huffed in exasperation. "That's not what—" He shook his head. "You've got Atash to worry about you!"

"It's fine!" Rose laid a reassuring hand on Stanno's arm, giving it a pat. She turned to Pashmina. "I'd love to be on the team."

Pashmina clapped her hands. "Come on then!"

She grabbed Rose's hand and practically dragged her away. Stanno hurried to keep up with them, determined to not let Rose out of his sight. They left the access road and made their way through the crowd to the street where the rickshaw race would be held. The course was almost same length as the track for the horse race, but it had more curves and a few sharp turns. Atash and a couple of the older pullers had planned it out not just for the challenge but for dramatic effect. The pullers were just beginning to get into position at the starting line, which was roughly between the school and the hospital. The young men were stretching their legs or pulling on fingerless leather gloves onto their hands. Pashmina led Rose to one of the rickshaws, where its puller, Salar, stood with Atash. They were both craning their necks to watch for the girls' approach. When Salar saw them, he let out a whoop.

"You did it!" he cried.

"Of course I did!" Pashmina called back smugly.

"Told you she would!" Atash gave Salar a shove. "_Zhaarana_ Rose! You're the best!"

Rose waved her hand. "We haven't started yet!" she warned them jokingly. "What do I need to do? Just sit?"

"Sit and hold on tight!" Salar replied with a grin. He gave a couple of excited jumps, punching his fist in the air.

Stanno walked around the rickshaw, giving it a quick inspection. He had built all the 'shaws and kept them well maintained. He often had to berate the pullers for abusing his handiwork. Salar, having been well coached by Atash, actually treated his 'shaw with respect. Hopefully, it wouldn't suddenly lose a wheel in the middle of the race.

Salar lifted the shafts and backed the rickshaw into place at the starting/finish line. With a jerk of his head, he called to Rose and Pashmina. "In you go, _zhaaranii_!"

Heading for the 'shaw, Rose let out a little giggle. "Now I'm getting a little nervous!"

"Ah, now, I've pulled you before, _Zhaarana_ Rose!" Salar assured her. "It'll be fine!"

"It had better be," Stanno warned him.

Pashmina climbed into the rickshaw then beckoned quickly. "Atash!"

The young man went up to the side of the rickshaw and Pashmina leaned over to kiss him. "See you at the finish line!"

"Don't fall out!" Atash warned her, giving her another kiss.

Pashmina settled back into her seat. "As if I would!"

Before Rose climbed in, she gave Stanno a smile. "Well, wish me luck!"

Stanno started to open his mouth to simply say good luck, but then he paused. Whether or not this was what Rose had intended, this was a moment that was screaming out to be seized. His slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer. Bending his head, he pressed his lips to hers, not so hard as to be too much of a liberty, but just enough to let her know that he knew what he was doing and didn't have to resort to trickery. He could hear her draw in a quick, soft breath through her nose in surprise, but she didn't pull away. She even leaned in a little closer to him, meeting the soft pressure of his mouth with her own.

He could have kept this up for hours, but he pulled away. "Good luck," he said softly.

He would have liked to think that she looked a lot more pleased than when Kaihan kissed her. "Thanks!" she breathed.

Stanno took that as much for the kiss as for the good luck wish and gave her a hand up into the rickshaw. "My pleasure."

"I'm the one doing the pulling," Salar called over his shoulder. "Is anyone gonna kiss me?"

"If you win," Pashmina replied, "I'll think about it."

"_Eh-h_!" Atash exclaimed indignantly. "Forget that, Salar! You just be careful with your passengers and I won't kick your ass into next week!"

"Tch!" Salar sneered. "You sound like _Zhaarad_ Stanno. If I'm too careful, I won't win."

Feeling expansive, Stanno laughed and clapped Salar on the shoulder. "I'll tell you what, _lahaat_. If you win, I'll pay you a sizeable tip." He turned to the other pullers. "That goes for all of you!" He rubbed his fingers together. "The winner steps away a little richer!"

This was met with appreciative howls. Salar gripped his shafts tightly. "Better get out of the way, then!"

Stanno moved to the side of the street and nodded to Atash, who held up the flag that had been used to start the horse race. The pullers watched him tensely, and he swung it down. With howling and yelling from the pullers, shrieks either of excitement or terror from their passengers, and cheers from the spectators, the rickshaws surged forward. Stanno frowned a little as he watched them disappear around the first curve.

"You look worried."

Stanno turned to Atash and found him smirking. The carpenter jerked his head toward where the racers had disappeared. "Aren't you?"

Atash shrugged. "I trained Salar myself. He knows what he's doing." He didn't sound all that certain and his smirk faded. "You want me to chase after them?"

"Can you keep up? They're younger and you haven't pulled for a while."

Atash gave him a shove. "You saying I'm old? _You're_ old!"

Stanno glared at him and shoved him back. "I am _not_ old!"

"Whatever you say, _Zhaarad_!"Atash laughed and jerked his thumb toward a side street behind them. "If we cut through there, we'll see them when they come around."

Stanno gave a nod. "Right!"

They weren't the only ones with that idea. Much of the crowd surged through the side street that ran next to the hospital grounds. The two men pushed through to reach the next street, where they took positions at the edge of the course. They could hear distant cheering, over which they both thought they could hear screaming and they glanced at each other, a little nervously.

"Whose idea was this?" Stanno demanded irritably.

Atash crossed his arms and drew himself up. "Mine."

Stanno gave a snort. "Figures."

* * *

It was a lot of fun at first. Rose was amazed at how fast these young men were, not to mention how fiercely competitive. Much like the horse race, the contenders grouped toward the inner part of the track. Some of the spectators that lined the street had to jump back to avoid getting run over, since the pullers weren't about to slow down for anyone.

Salar had taken an immediate lead, but one of the other pullers, a long-legged youth, began to inch ahead of him. Salar was a bit shorter, but he was muscular, and what he lacked in length of stride, he more than made up for in sheer strength. Hunching his head down a little, he pulled ahead and regained the advantage.

They came to an intersection where the first sharp turn was. Salar slowed down fractionally to make the turn and lost his lead. Rose could hear terrified shrieking behind her and she looked over her shoulder. A couple of the 'shaws were tilting on one wheel as they made the turn, and their passengers were gripping the sides, clearly regretting their decision to participate. Rose sat forward quickly. It probably was better not to look. At least they were close to the hospital.

The next corner was taken as fast as the first, and Pashmina's side of the rickshaw lifted off the ground just a little. Then it dropped back down as Salar sped on to the next long section, where he was able to lengthen his lead. Rose glanced at Pashmina, who grinned nervously back at her.

Faces and buildings flashed past them and the cheering echoed off the walls. It was beginning to take on almost nightmare proportions, but they were nearly half through. The long-legged puller once again began to creep up alongside Salar, who put on yet another burst of speed, and the spectators cheered him on.

There were two more corners to maneuver around before they reached the home stretch. As they reached the first one, Salar cursed aloud as the other puller swung wide and started to creep ahead of him. At the second and final turn, Salar took it at full speed. The side of the 'shaw lifted up precariously as it rounded the corner on one wheel. Pashimina let out a scream and leaned toward Rose to throw her arms around her. The rickshaw tilted even further, and now there were screams from the spectators. Rose quickly shoved her and Pashmina's weight against the lifting side of the rickshaw. The wheel dropped back to the ground. With a whoop of triumph, Salar blazed ahead toward the finish line, crossing it an entire shaft length ahead of his closest rival.

Breathing heavily and grinning, Salar slowed to a trot. The spectators surged into the street around him, clapping and cheering. He finally came to a stop and, lowering the shafts to the ground, he leaned forward with his palms on his knees. He received claps on the back and one of the soldiers pressed a canteen of water into his hands.

Rose and Pashmina were still gripping the sides of the rickshaw, not quite ready to stand up yet. Stanno and Atash finally managed to push through the crowd to get alongside them. Stanno held his arms out to Rose and helped her step down. She gripped his arms until she was sure her knees wouldn't buckle underneath her.

"Are you all right?" Stanno asked.

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine!" Rose replied in a breathless laugh. She grinned up at him, still reeling a little from their near spill. "Did you see that? That was crazy!"

Stanno looked suspicious and slightly alarmed. "See what?"

Rose laughed again. Her knees still felt wobbly and she leaned against him, hugging him. "Never mind!"


	15. Chapter 15

**This chapter made me crazy o_O**

**Chapter 15**

With the sun setting, it was getting colder, and there had been a few half-hearted drizzles, but nothing had dampened the festive atmosphere. Stanno generously rewarded Salar for his victory, and the young man was treating his fellows at one of the drinks tables that had been set up around the center of the festivities. The _tagma _members had congregated at a table across the square, and the two groups were hurling genial but noisy insults at each other.

Tables had been set up all around the temple square and beyond. Food was being sold along with the drink (as if the holy day feast hadn't been enough). There were even some handicrafts being sold, such as rugs, pottery, and toys. Stanno had originally meant to make his own bit of money on the side by selling some of his handiwork, but he cheerfully gave that up in favor of spending the day in Rose's company. He was still waiting for the opportunity to get her alone in some quiet spot. So far, that was proving difficult. She wanted to see everything, visit every table, and sample the food and drink. She particularly liked the fruit juice and _halmi _cocktails. Stanno had a couple of neat shots himself, just to get loosened up and establish a pleasant hum.

But then, who should butt himself in but Kaihan. After having put his horse away or whatever it was he had been doing, the _tagma _captain sidled up to Rose's elbow.

"I heard about your victory, Rose!" he exclaimed. "Well done!"

"Oh, well!" Rose laughed and shrugged. "I didn't do much except hold on for dear life."

"You'd have to!" Kaihan agreed. "You could get killed in one of those contraptions, even when they're not racing!"

Stanno bristled. "My 'shaws are perfectly safe," he declared stiffly.

"Oh, the 'shaws are fine," Kaihan said with a conspiratorial wink at Rose. "My horsemen have their hands full with the pullers. They're the ones who're dangerous."

"At least they don't crap in the street," Stanno muttered.

Kaihan opened his mouth to retort, but Rose quickly grabbed them each by the elbow. "Okay, boys!" she said cheerfully. "Let's play nice! There's still lots of party left—"

As if in reply, the floodlights that had been set up around Gunja started to come on. The stage where the speeches had been made earlier was now going to be occupied by Spirit of Ishval. There was a squeak of feedback as the musicians were warming up and testing the sound equipment that would broadcast their music all over Gunja, another modern twist to the ancient festival.

Rose let out a gasp. "Is the dancing going to start now? Pashmina's been teaching me some of the steps! I hope I can remember them!"

Stanno took her hand and began to lead her toward the temple square. "Just watch me."

Kaihan hung around like a bad smell. "When do you ever dance?" he scoffed.

Clenching his teeth for a moment, Stanno fought the urge to rise to the bait. "It's easy enough," he said to Rose, ignoring Kaihan. "You'll pick it up in no time."

Up on the stage, Dejan stepped up to one of the microphones. "_Ishvala nadrii ho'avaat_!" he called out.

"_Ho'avaat_!" the crowd roared back.

Dejan feigned at being startled. "Well, I guess you're all ready to cut loose." He looked around. "As soon as my dad shows up, we can get—ah, there he is!"

Shua hopped up onto the stage, holding his fiddle, and waved to the crowd.

Dejan turned back to the microphone. "Oh, yes, before we get started, I've been asked by our _khorovar _to remind you all to drink responsibly."

Shua stepped up to one of the other microphones and announced, "I'm donating a cut of my _halmi _sales to our school and hospital!"

His son gave him an exasperated look. "Dad, I just got through—"

Shua waved his remark aside. "Be temperate," he advised the crowd, "but be generous."

Dejan shrugged and grinned. "Right. Well, now, let's pick up our feet!"

He gave a nod to his brother-in-law, Damyan, who had been blowing up his bagpipe. As the first wail emanated from the chanter, Damyan lifted the drone to rest on his shoulder. Mika stepped up with her drum, tapping it with a light, rapid rhythm as Damyan gave enough of an introduction for the dancers to get into position. Several lines formed, some facing one, some another. They began to wind around curves and down side streets.

Whoever was at the head of each line would establish the basic steps. Stanno didn't even know who was leading this line, and he hoped that the steps would start out simple. It was true that he didn't participate in dancing much, generally only when it served a purpose, like now, and he didn't want to look like an idiot. Stanno tightened his hold on Rose's hand just a little. There could be quite a crush at times, and he didn't want to lose her in it. And _of course_ that miserable shit Kaihan dove in to grab hold of Rose's other hand. She was far too kind to tell him to go lose himself, and Stanno didn't dare say anything for fear of appearing ill-mannered. It was enough to make a man weep.

With a deep stroke of the drum setting the rhythm of the dance, the line moved forward. With a quick glance up the line, Stanno quickly picked up which steps they would begin with. Oh, good, he knew that one pretty well. A few switching steps in place, then a hop, and some running steps forward to begin the pattern again. He had to admit, there was a certain infectious quality to it, and he turned to smile at Rose. She was looking down, concentrating on his feet and copying his movements. _His,_ he thought smugly, not Kaihan's. He gave her hand a squeeze and she glanced up at him, an enchanting smile on her face, and she giggled. For a moment, he was so distracted that his steps nearly faltered. But then he took on a new sure-footedness.

The line began to curve around, doubling on itself, and those at the head of the line danced past those further down. It could easily snake around into several bends. At one point, the line curved enough to where for just a brief moment, Stanno was face to face with Kaihan, and they glared fiercely at each other. Rose was concentrating on her feet and didn't notice. Maybe they would make a sharp enough twist so that they would lose the _tagma _captain entirely. Maybe he would even be crushed underfoot. Once the momentum started, it was hard to stop. One could only hope. But Kaihan managed to hang on like grim death. The best Stanno could do was pretend he wasn't there, which wasn't easy, especially when Kaihan let out a short, piercing whistle, matching the rhythm of the drum. Others copied him enthusiastically. Whistling was one thing Stanno couldn't do well, and he despised Kaihan that much more.

After a time, Stanno leaned down toward Rose. Raising his voice to be heard over the music, he said, "If you get tired, let me know and we can step out."

"I'm all right!" Rose called back, just a little breathless.

"Feel free to take a rest anytime, old man!" Kaihan suggested over Rose's head. "We'll be fine, won't we, Rose!"

Stanno shot him a withering glance. He was, in fact, getting a little tired as well as irritable. "I can keep this up as long as you can!"

Kaihan grinned, not even out of breath. "Let's see you, then!"

"Oh, come on now!" Rose chided them amiably. "This is supposed to be fun! It's not a competition!"

_Oh, Rose, if only you knew!_ Stanno thought glumly. If this kept up, he might never get the chance to tell her.

Their line had snaked all around the square and was heading back in the direction of the stage. Stanno couldn't even tell how long they had been at this. It could have been three quarters of an hour for all he knew. He wasn't quite sure he was up for too much more, but then the musicians finally brought the music to a halt. With a few final steps, the crowds of lines stopped and a cheer went up. Rose drew in a deep breath and cheered with the rest.

"We'll give you some time to wet your throats," Dejan announced over the speakers, "then we'll have at it again!"

The lines broke up and the dancers headed for the various drinks tables.

"_Whew_!" Rose breathed. "That sounds like a great idea! Let's grab a drink!"

Kaihan didn't release Rose's hand, so neither did Stanno, and for a moment, they seemed to be at an impasse. Then Rose strode toward one of the tables, dragging them along with her.

"Come along, boys! I'm thirsty!"

They stopped at one of the tables that didn't have too much of a crowd at it. Rose and her two escorts reached the front of the line, and one of the women behind it leaned toward her.

"What'll it be, _Zhaarana_?" she asked. She eyed Stanno and Kaihan with a slight grin. "Are you all together?"

"No!" both Stanno and Kaihan blurted.

Rose tucked their arms under hers. "Yes!" she declared. "Three beers, please."

"And a _halmi_," Stanno added, reaching into his pocket with his free hand.

"I'll take care of this!" Kaihan said quickly, digging into his pocket.

"No you won't!"

Rose leaned toward the woman as she set three bottles on the table and started to pour a small glass of _halmi _from a jug. "What's the damage?"

"Four hundred cenz."

"Right." Rose smiled and looked back and forth at Stanno and Kaihan. "That's two hundred from both of you. How's that?"

Kaihan chuckled and put a couple of notes on the table. "Fair enough."

"You're wise as well as beautiful, Rose," Stanno said. He picked up the glass of _halmi _and raised it to her. Then he knocked it back.

Kaihan raised an eyebrow. "Better watch the strong stuff, _Zhaarad_."

"What do you suggest, Captain?" Stanno picked up his beer bottle. "Goat's milk?"

Rose let out a sigh and freed her hands. Picking up her beer, she lifted it toward Stanno, then Kaihan. "Would you fellows do me a big favor and quit fussing?"

Kaihan smiled innocently. "It's all in fun, Rose!" He looked over her head at Stanno. "Isn't that right, _Zhaarad_?"

_You know what would be fun? Me shoving that bottle down your throat. _Stanno met Rose's look as she gazed up at him, earnestly waiting for a response. She actually looked a little worried. How could he disappoint her? He gave her a reassuring squeeze around the shoulders and kissed her temple. "Of course it is!"

"You're warming my heart!" the woman behind the table remarked. "But you're holding up the line!"

"Sorry!" Rose said quickly, moving away from the table.

Kaihan swung after her, but Stanno forced himself to lag behind, moving off to the side of the table to finish his beer. Despite every fiber of his being crying out to him to render the _tagma_ captain unconscious, he had to be the better man. Was he not of noble blood? Was he not above this sort of petty squabbling? Wasn't that the sort of man Rose wanted him to be?

"Shouldn't you chase after her, _Zhaarad _Stanno?" the woman behind the table asked with a smirk. "The captain looks like he might steal her away."

Stanno watched the two of them a short distance away. Kaihan was babbling on about something or other and Rose was listening and nodding. Then she looked back toward the table and smiled at him. She tilted her head a little to beckon him over.

Stanno set down his empty bottle with a determined smile. "He hasn't got a chance," he told the woman, almost convincing himself.

8888

After a short break, the musicians gathered on the stage and started up again. Rose quickly took up a position in line along with her two dance partners. After the first skirl of the bagpipe and the beat of the drum, the dancing began. She was fully aware that the two men on either side of her saw themselves as rivals for her affection. It was a novel experience, and she had to admit, it was kind of flattering, but only to a certain point. She could sense a nearly palpable tension between them, but she was determined to keep things calm and equable. She didn't like conflicts. Even before the riots, conflicts made her anxious. Even more than bugs. They were both things that needed to be neutralized one way or another. The fact that she was the cause of this particular conflict made it worse.

Kaihan was normally such a nice guy, someone fun to hang out with. He didn't seem like the type to make such a point of goading Stanno. He seemed to have misinterpreted her friendliness for something more, and she was sorry if that was the case. She would have to gently set him straight without hurting his feelings. He could get his ego bruised pretty quickly, but he didn't seem to have any problem bouncing back.

Stanno, on the other hand, had plenty of scars on his ego, many of them self-inflicted. He'd had shown her these scars, laying an unattractive past bare for her, and she was so touched by the sweetness of his trust. Behind the charming, handsome front was a vulnerable, battered soul. Here was someone whose life she had touched—had changed. It was a scary responsibility. That small, empty spot in her heart was beginning to fill up again, but she wasn't sure she was ready for that.

The music and the dancing helped to make her feel a bit more lighthearted. She felt so privileged to be a part of this community experience. She wished it was having the same effect on Stanno and Kaihan, but she doubted it. She would catch them sending each other glances of veiled malice when they thought she wasn't looking. This situation called for straightening out before she left tomorrow, but she couldn't very well do that until she was able to sort things out in her own head.

Just when Rose thought her throat couldn't get any more parched, the music stopped. She drooped a little. "I really need something to drink."

"_I'll_ get this round!" Kaihan announced quickly.

Stanno started to open his mouth, but Rose spoke up first. "That's awfully nice of you, Kaihan!"

"Ah…" Stanno put his arm around her shoulders. "So it is, Captain!" he said cheerfully. "We'll wait here for you."

Kaihan hesitated, eying the carpenter narrowly. "I could use some help."

"And leave Rose by herself?" Stanno replied in disbelief, tightening his hold. "You're a strong, capable fellow! You can manage!"

Kaihan seemed to visibly bristle. "You want to see what I'm capable of?"

Rose had enough of this. She rolled her eyes and pulled away from Stanno. "How about this? How about _I_ treat the two of you? _I'll _go!" She gave them each a stern look and pointed at them. "And while I'm gone, you stay here and behave yourselves, all right?" She walking away, looking over her shoulder. "I'll be right back, and then we're going to have a little talk."

8888

Stanno watched Rose's retreating back with a sense of despair and foreboding. He felt embarrassed and chastened for having been scolded, and he dreaded what she might be planning to "talk" about.

"Nice job!" sneered Kaihan, the source of all his woes.

Mindful of Rose's admonition, Stanno kept his temper and said nothing.

At one of the nearby drinks tables, the _tagma _jostled noisily for position with the pullers. They'd been giving the tables a fair amount of custom.

Kaihan jerked his chin in their direction. "Looks like your boys might start some trouble, _Zhaarad _Stanno."

Stanno's jaw tightened a little. After their spectacular race, Stanno was feeling rather proud of his pullers and wasn't taking well to having them badmouthed. But he kept his temper. "They're decent fellows," he replied calmly. "They won't start anything, but they'll finish it if needs be. _Your _boys don't seem to be contributing much to law and order," he added. "Aren't they supposed to be on duty or something?"

Kaihan scoffed. "They're prepared for anything, day or night!"

Stanno couldn't help letting out a laugh. "Day or night, is it? Are you making a little money on the side, then?"

Kaihan cast him a disgusted look. "That's pretty filthy-minded!"

"Oh, now," Stanno replied with affected reassurance. "It's all in fun, isn't it, Captain?"

"Huh! I know about your idea of fun!" Kaihan growled back. "You used to visit the _falshaii_ when decent men were home with their families. I've heard about _you_!"

Stanno just rolled his eyes. "More than one decent man spent time with the _falshaii_. That's old news."

"So are you!" Kaihan returned with a grin.

"I _am _the chieftain of Kanda," Stanno reminded him stiffly. "I have half a mind—"

"Good for you!"

Between gritted teeth, Stanno went on. "I have half a mind to speak to the _khorovar_ about your lack of respect."

Kaihan was not intimidated. "Ah, now, everyone knows there's little love lost between the two of you. Besides, I command some respect of my own. I was the one the _khorovar _chose above all the others to lead the _tagma_!"

"Because you were the only one who could spell his own name?"

Kaihan turned to get into Stanno's face. "Listen, _djaari_—"

"No, _you _listen, _lahaat_!" Stanno snarled back. "I don't know what you think you're playing at, but you—"

"_Hai_, _Zhaarad_!" Salar, with a cup of _halmi _in one hand, clapped Stanno's shoulder with the other. A couple of the other pullers guffawed tipsily along with him. They must have opted to drink rather than dance. "You tell him, _Zhaarad_!"

It was unlikely that they even knew what was going on, and they were most definitely not helping. Stanno shrugged away irritably. "Go away!"

Two of his fellow _tagma_ came up behind Kaihan. They looked like they might have been holding their liquor a little better, but not by much. "Something wrong, Captain?" one of them asked.

"Ahh!" Kaihan growled, jerking his chin at Stanno with what was meant to pass as gruff good humor. "The chieftain of Kanda wants to play the lead buck and lock horns."

Stanno smiled with perverse satisfaction. If Rose brought out the best in him, Kaihan was bringing out the worst. "Lead buck?" he laughed and raised his hands. "Oh, you're welcome to _that_ title, Captain! You know your way around a goat pen better than me! After all, one of your does just had twins, didn't she? You must be _so_ proud!"

Kaihan's head nearly snapped back as though he'd been struck, and his men let out incredulous gasps. Salar and the other pullers burst out laughing.

"_Stanno_!"

They all froze. Stanno turned to see Rose a few feet away, rooted to where she had stopped, clutching three beer bottles. She was staring at him in disbelief. Her cry was one of not just indignation but of dismay, and Stanno felt a rush of stinging remorse flood over him. _Oh, Ishvala! What have I done?_

Kaihan stared at her, his eyes widening as realization dawned. He looked back at Stanno, then back at Rose, outrage, hurt, and betrayal plastered over his features. Finally, as if settling on a resolve, he turned back toward Stanno and sent a fist across his chin.

Stanno rather lost track of what happened next, which was easy to do, considering how fast everything happened and the fact that he was stunned. He was engulfed in a sudden flood of bodies. There was angry, excited yelling all around him. There was the sound of breaking glass. It was difficult to determine who was trying to stop the fight and who was trying to make it worse. He tried to shuffle backwards to get out of the crush of elbows, knees, and fists, and he did finally free himself. For a moment, he thought he could possibly get away with looking like he wasn't even involved. But then Kaihan came stumbling out of the crowd as well and as soon as he caught sight of Stanno, he let out a bellow of rage and leapt forward. Stanno briefly considered the possible advantages of trying to apologize. Before he could come up with something convincing, Kaihan hit him again. His swing was wild but was fueled with twice as much momentum and anger.

Stanno was knocked backwards off his feet, dimly resigned to the fact that he would land on his back and get the wind knocked out of him. But on his way to the ground, the back of his head hit something with a hard edge and everything went dark.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

A narrow beam of light shone in his eyes, obscuring everything behind it. "What is your name?"

He would have sworn he was dead and facing judgment, except Ishvala would know his name.

He was lying on his back, but not on the ground, which would have been cold. Probably on the stage. Stanno squinted and turned his face away. "What kind of stupid question is that?" he snapped, or rather, mumbled. "And get that out of my eyes!"

Marcoh gently but firmly turned Stanno's head back to face him. "I'm checking you for concussion. Tell me your name."

Stanno blew out an impatient breath. "Stanno Dreva, last of the noble house of Dreva, chieftain of Kanda, master craftsman—"

"Yes, that's fine. Do you know where you are?"

"On my back."

Marcoh's wizened features wrinkled even more as he frowned. "I'm doing this for your benefit, you know."

"Fine. I'm in the temple square. On the stage, I think."

"Good. Do you remember what happened to you?"

_Do I? Oh, yes! _"That sonofabitch Kaihan punched me in the face!"

"You had it coming, _yaakhtai_!" a voice a short distance away called back.

"That's enough out of you, Kaihan!" Stanno heard Andakar growl from somewhere else not too far away. He sounded less than pleased.

Marcoh flicked his penlight from one eye to the other, then nodded, apparently satisfied with what he saw. "Pupils equal, round, and reactive to light," he murmured. "Do you feel nauseous?"

"No."

"He sure makes me want to puke!"

Stanno tried to push himself up. "Shut up, Kaihan!"

Marcoh pushed him back. "Stay down! I don't want you to move yet!"

Somewhere off to the left, Shua suggested, "Let's see just how addled his brain is. _Hai_, Stanno! What year is it?"

Marcoh chuckled a little. "I was checking for concussion, not dementia."

Stanno frowned slightly. _What difference does it-wait, what year_ is_ it_? He panicked for an instant, then said, "1919."

Grumman's face hove into view above his, upside down. "Who's the Fuhrer?" he asked cheerfully.

_Are you serious?_ "You are."

The Fuhrer chuckled as he straightened up and hopped down from the stage. "Maybe that was too easy."

"Oh! Me! My turn!" Pashmina bent over Stanno with a look of grave concern. "What's one half divided by one fourth?"

Stanno gave her an odd scowl. "Two."

Pashmina clapped her hands. "_Eh-h_! That's right!" She beamed happily at Marcoh. "He did that in his head, just like that! He must be all right!" She looked back down at Stanno. "It took me for_ever_ to understand that! _Zhaarana_ Rose helped me figure it out."

"I lost count of how many times I explained it to you, _laleh_," Andakar said from wherever he was.

Pashmina tossed a look over her shoulder. "That's good, because I did, too." She turned back to Stanno. "_Zhaarana_ Rose took an orange, you see, and she cut it in half, and then—"

Stanno drew in a sharp gasp. "_Rose_!"

He tried once again to push himself up, but Marcoh held him firmly by the shoulders. "All right, all right. Slowly, now!" he warned. The doctor looked around a little irritably. "Is Havoc back with that ice yet?"

"Right here, Doc!"

With Marcoh's help, Stanno sat up slowly on the edge of the stage, his head throbbing. A number of people were gathered around the area. Not far away, a couple of the pullers were huddled in a little group, looking disheveled and subdued. A short distance away, the _tagma_ stood rather in the same condition. The military police had established a subtle presence and were joking easily with the former combatants. Havoc came trotting up, carrying an armful of cloth bundles. He came up to where Stanno sat and handed one of the sacks to Marcoh, who placed it against the back of Stanno's head. The carpenter sucked in a painful hiss.

"Hold that there." Marcoh reached out to Havoc. "We'll need another of those," he said.

"I figured," Havoc replied with a chuckle.

"Thank you." Marcoh put another ice pack into Stanno's hand and brought it up to a swollen spot near his mouth. "There. That should keep you busy for a while."

Stanno wearily held the cold, wet bags, one against his scalp, the other against the left side of his face. Marcoh got up and moved to the far corner of the platform. Stanno glanced over to watch him hand one of the ice packs to Kaihan, who pressed it against his left eye. _That'll spoil your looks for you_!

He looked away to see Pashmina still standing before him, gazing at him with forlorn concern. He must look ridiculous. "Where is Rose?" he asked her, although he thought he knew the answer.

"I…think she left," Pashmina replied cautiously.

Stanno nodded then hung his head. Pashmina moved to sit beside him, taking hold of the ice pack on the back of his head where he could feel a knot growing. The melting ice was dripped down his neck and his arm, soaking his clothes and chilling him in the cold night air. He shoved the fingers of his free hand into his hair and gripped tightly enough to bring tears to his eyes. Or were they already there? "_Shit_!" he muttered savagely. "What a pig she must think I am!"

"Well…Kaihan's the one who hit you," Pashmina ventured.

"Yes, but—" Stanno lowered his voice so Kaihan couldn't hear. "But I deserved it."

"Maybe…" She seemed to be agreeing with him, nonetheless. He heard her draw in a quick breath. "Atash!" she called.

Stanno tilted his head to see the young man walk up and sit at his other side. The young man hid a slightly grim look with a smile. "You look like you'll live," he pronounced.

"Never mind that," Stanno growled. "Where is Rose?"

Atash glanced at his girlfriend. "She went back to the hotel."

Stanno regarded him expectantly, not sure he wanted to hear more. Atash went on. "I saw her run off when the fight started. I was afraid she might get lost, so I followed after her, and a good thing I did. She was heading in the wrong direction, she was that upset."

"Upset?" Stanno's stomach twisted. "Did she say anything?"

"Not much. I just asked her if she was all right, and she said no, but she didn't say why. I mean, not that I couldn't figure it out." Atash scowled at Stanno in exasperation. "What were you _thinking_?"

_Good question. I wish I had a good answer_.

Stanno didn't reply, so Atash continued. "So I walked with her back to the hotel and made sure she got up to her room. I asked her if she needed anything or if she wanted me to stay downstairs, but she said she just wanted to be left alone." He lifted his shoulders a little helplessly then looked down at his feet. "I…um…hung around outside her door for a couple of minutes, and I think she was crying."

Stanno lowered his head to rest in his free hand. Well, there it was. He made her cry. The last nail in the coffin.

Atash leaned toward him, giving him a little nudge with his shoulder. Pashmina made a little _tsk_ing noise, whether in disgust or commiseration was unclear, but she kept her hold on the ice pack. Stanno was a little surprised to find the young couple's company something of a comfort.

The festival seemed to be continuing, in spite of the brawl, but it had quieted down somewhat. The musicians were still playing somewhere within hearing, no longer bothering with the broadcasting themselves over the speakers. There was still the sound of laughter. Shua was off somewhere nearby, joking with Grumman, whose cackle could be heard briefly over the other voices. The world was continuing on, almost as if nothing had happened.

Stanno raised his head as footsteps approached. Bozidar, Miles, and Andakar were walking toward the stage. _Oh, good_, he thought bitterly. _  
_

"I'll be happy to throw them all in the stockade," Miles was saying.

"This is not a military matter," Andakar corrected him.

"Yes, but you just suspended the entire _tagma_," the colonel returned sounding amused. "You might want to rethink that."

"It's only for a week. They're lucky it's not more."

"I think bruised heads will be punishment enough," Bozidar replied. "I won't be surprised to see these same bruised heads offering their sins at the altar in the morning."

"We're definitely putting a limit on the alcohol consumption next year," Andakar growled.

"Yes, I think that might be wise," Bozidar agreed. "But it could have been so much worse, if the Xingese chronicles are anything to go by." He laughed quietly. "I don't think the earth is going to swallow us up over one brawl."

They halted in front of Stanno, considering him like a sad piece of neglected baggage. Miles clapped Andakar on the shoulder. "Right, then, I'll leave this miserable offender to you."

Stanno glared up at the colonel as he walked away, but he didn't have the energy to make a retort.

Bozidar leaned down and patted him on the shoulder before taking his leave. Stanno was grateful that the old priest forbore from offering any parting words of wisdom.

He hoped that Andakar would follow the other two, but he gave no sign of doing so. "How are you feeling?" he asked, a little brusquely.

"Well…" Stanno lifted his hand then dropped it on his knee. "I can still do fractions."

That actually got a grim half smile out of Andakar. "I've been told to walk you home."

Stanno frowned. "You? What for?"

Andakar gave a slight, dismissive roll of his shoulders. "For my sins, I suppose."

"Ideally," Marcoh said, walking back across the stage toward them, "someone should stay with him overnight."

"I am _not_ doing that," Andakar replied darkly.

"No, well, I wasn't really volunteering you," Marcoh said with a hint of a laugh. "Atash, would you be willing—"

"I don't need a damn nursemaid!" Stanno growled. "I'll be fine!"

Marcoh shrugged. "I can't force you. But I'll come by your place in the morning." He pointed at Stanno. "And no arguments on that!"

"Fine," Stanno sighed.

"I can take him back, _Zhaarad_ Andakar," Atash said. "I ought to get back to the hotel anyway."

Andakar shook his head. "Thank you, Atash, but I'm under an obligation. Not to you," he added to Stanno, who looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. "To my wife."

Stanno's mouth quirked in a weak grin. "I thought so."

8888

They didn't speak on the way back. Stanno's head still throbbed, but it was beginning to ebb, which he supposed was a good sign. Atash and Pashmina, who were both returning to the hotel to prepare for the guests' return, walked up ahead, hand in hand, talking quietly. Stanno glanced at them now and again, envying them their happiness. Neither of them were what you would call brilliant. How did they manage to get it right?

They turned down the final street and Atash and Pashmina headed for the hotel. Stanno paused and looked up at the second floor windows. There were no lights emanating from the carved shutters. With a shake of his head, he went on to his house and down the side alley.

"I can manage from here," he said tersely, pushing the gate open.

Andakar held onto the gate as Stanno tried to close it. "Are you sure you're all right?"

Stanno let out a quiet snort and left Andakar to do whatever he liked with the gate. He searched his pockets for the key to his back door. "Well, if I'm dead by morning, I'd appreciate a decent funeral. Then you can all take turns gloating over my grave and good riddance!" he muttered bitterly. He went through his pockets a second time. "Where the hell is my damn key?"

"Check the breast pocket," Andakar said. "Inside on the left."

"Huh?"

"Rada made that coat, didn't she? She always sews in a pocket there."

Stanno clapped his hand over his left breast, then dug his hand inside his coat. He pulled out a door key. "Bloody hell!" he mumbled irritably to himself. He gazed with weary futility at his door. He would step through this door and the day would end and the hopes he had cherished for it would die. He let out a long sigh. "Bloody hell," he murmured again.

Andakar was still there, watching him. Stanno turned on him. "Go home!" he snarled.

The _khorovar_ just folded his arms and regarded Stanno somewhat quizzically. "Are you sure you should be by yourself? You may have hit your head harder than you think."

Stanno clutched at this head, which hurt, but he didn't care. "All I want is to be left alone!"

That's what Rose had said, according to Atash. How wretched she must feel. He wanted to hold her and tell her how sorry he was, but maybe she had already recognized what would be the pattern of their future, and even a sweet girl like her had her limits.

"Kaihan was reluctant to tell me exactly what happened." Andakar left his statement open ended as if expecting Stanno to fill in the rest. As if he couldn't squeeze whatever he wanted out of Kaihan with nothing more than a stern look.

"If you want the sordid truth-" Stanno began, then shook his head. "You can crawl for it."

"This is about Rose, isn't it? I saw the three of you." Andakar considered him doubtfully. "I suppose it's too much to hope for that you were defending her honor."

Stanno shoved his key into the lock. "I wish to God I could tell you different," he said heavily, "but yes, it's too much to hope for. Why don't you go home?"

"She hasn't left yet, you know."

Stanno paused. He had expected something biting and sarcastic. This took him a little by surprise, coming from Andakar, not that it mattered. He shook his head and pushed his door open. "She's done with me."

"Are you sure about that?"

Stanno let out a bitter chuckle. "Shua asked me the same thing, more or less. Yes, I'm sure."

Andakar still wouldn't leave. "Do you remember the story of Ishvala and the spider?"

Stanno turned in the doorway to give Andakar an incredulous look. "You're joking."

"A spider was trying to spin a web between the branches of a _meskaa_ tree," Andakar began.

Stanno nearly turned away to slam the door closed, but he just groaned and leaned against the doorframe. He began to wish that he could fall over dead right then.

Andakar continued patiently. "But everything seemed to conspire against it. A dust devil blew past and tore at the web. Then a cactus wren nearly caught the spider and it had to hide. Then there was a storm and the lashing rain destroyed the web. The world acted as it normally did from one day to the next, but everything that happened made it impossible for the poor creature to spin its web.

"Finally, Ishvala took pity on the spider. He caused the earth to stand utterly still for a few precious moments. Not a breath of wind stirred. Not a bird took wing. Not a raindrop fell. The spider took those few precious moments to build a fine sturdy web."

Stanno continued to lean against his house. Finally, he muttered scathingly, "Your point?"

"My point is that you shouldn't give up hope."

Stanno straightened up and gave Andakar a grim, level glare. "Listen, _Scar_, I don't need your advice and I certainly don't need you to tell me stories. You're not my father, you're not the brother I never had, I don't even like you!"

"I don't like you either," Andakar replied evenly. "That doesn't mean you're not worthy of _someone's_ regard."

Stanno gave a derisive snort. "Well, it won't be Rose's and probably not Ishvala's, either. I doubt very much that the Creator is going to take an active hand in my fate and make time stand still."

Andakar shrugged resignedly and stepped away from the gate. "I did what I could. You're on your own then."

Stanno sighed to himself and stepped into his house, closing the door behind him. "Yes, I am."

8888

For the first time, and possibly the last time in his life, Scar felt sorry for Stanno. He had actually started to hold out some hope for the man, but he was ultimately unable to overcome his own nature.

Scar looked up to see a small group of people heading up the street toward him. Fuhrer Grumman walked along with Roy and Riza. Little Christine was fast asleep on her father's shoulder.

Grumman raised a hand in greeting. "Seen your boy home, have you?"

"I expect he'll survive the night."

"Oh, I expect we all will," Grumman said easily. "I wouldn't have thought so, Mr. Governor, but you folks really know how to put on a lively party!"

"It's still going pretty strong back there," Roy said, adding with a little grin, "despite a few moments of drunk and disorderly."

A dark, exasperated growl emanated from Scar's chest, but Grumman said, "Oh, that was nothing! East City's Oktoberfest has a glorious tradition of bloody noses and cracked skulls. I had to miss it this year," he sighed wistfully, then he brightened. "But at least I caught the show here!"

"That is not a tradition I want to establish," Scar remarked, a little severely. "But I suppose it was bound to happen."

"Well, it was very brief," Roy said, "and you handled it efficiently."

"That's right," Riza agreed. "We really would have stayed longer, but we really do need to get Christina to bed. She was getting cranky."

"She doesn't get cranky!" Roy retorted. "She's had a long day and she's just overtired."

Riza smiled wearily and patted her husband on the shoulder that wasn't occupied by Christina's head. "It's the same thing, Brigadier." She made his rank sound like an endearment. She turned back to Scar. "Don't worry about your festival. It was wonderful."

Roy gave a little bow in the Fuhrer's direction. "Good night, Excellency. Good night, _Zhaarad Khorovar_."

"Good night."

Grumman replied with a wave. "Good night, all you young Mustangs."

Roy and Riza took their little girl into the hotel, and Scar would have headed on his own way, but Grumman lingered in the street, contemplating the cloud-laden sky.

"As much as I'd like to head on back to that shindig, I'd better take little Christina's example and turn in," he remarked. "If I want to outwit some trout, I've got to get up at sparrowfart."

Scar wasn't about to ask him to elaborate. It sounded self-explanatory anyway. He thought he should meet him on more common ground. "You must be quite proud of your granddaughter and great-granddaughter."

"Oh, to be sure, to be sure," Grumman said. He lifted his shoulders and sighed. "Not like I had much to do with it. That young Mustang may not have won the election, but he's got me beat as a father. Otherwise my daughter wouldn't have run off with that whack job Berthold Hawkeye." He peered up over his glasses. "You're not doing too bad, yourself, young feller, and I'm not just talking about that brood of yours." His looked turned shrewd. "Your people have developed a confidence about themselves, and I think you have a lot to do with that. That little scuffle earlier?" He gave a dismissive flip of his hand. "Nothing more than a bump in the road. Everybody got settled back down just fine, and you want to know why?"

"Actually, yes."

"Because they trust you." Grumman smiled under his mustache. "So think about that for a bit."

Whistling the tune to _Grandfather Went to the Marketplace_, Grumman strolled on to the front door of the hotel and went inside.

Scar shook his head and continued on his way, smiling slightly to himself. Grumman's assessment was not one he would have thought about, but he supposed it made sense, in a sort of backhanded way. He certainly hoped his people trusted him, but he couldn't always fix everything.

Take Stanno, for example. He was irritated that he should even care, but it was frustrating to watch someone make the same mistakes over and over again, Scar shook his head. No, Stanno wouldn't listen to him. If Ishvala wanted to show the poor fool some mercy, it was probably more than he deserved.


	17. Chapter 17

**This chapter turned out rather different from when I first envisioned it. I knew it needed some sort of a twist, but nothing was coming to me. Then, a few months ago, something happened that inspired me. I live in the desert, and people don't generally think that this happens here, but it did.**

**Chapter 17**

Rose pulled the bed covers up to her chin and curled herself up into a ball. She was glad she had thought to ask for another blanket early the day before. She thought about turning up the radiator but she didn't want to get out of bed. Rain pattered against the wooden shutters and pinged against the glass windows behind them. It was a gloomy morning and it completely matched her mood.

She had lost her head in so many ways it wasn't funny. She had gotten spoiled. Back at home, she was just a lunch counter cook and waitress. Yes, people sought her out, but mainly for just a friendly smile and a grilled ham and cheese with a side of potato salad. Then they were gone. Here in Ishval, people sought her out because they wanted her company. She was pampered and fussed over and made much of. A little too much, as it turned out.

Now she was that crazy Amestrian woman who caused a fight and ran away as soon as it started.

Well, maybe she couldn't help that part so much. As soon as the fists started flying she was swept back to that dark, mad time in Liore. For what seemed like an eternity, her being seemed to shrink deep inside her as if trying to hide. Then she just turned and ran, trying to put as much distance between herself and the madness as quickly as she could. She remembered with a twinge that she had dropped the bottles of beer she had been carrying. That must have made a mess.

She vaguely remembered Atash catching up to her, and she thought she answered whatever questions he asked her, but it was sort of a blur now. Then, once the panic had worn off, she felt so miserable because people had gotten hurt because of her, directly or indirectly, and the best she could do was take off like a scared rabbit. She was not proud of herself.

And, oh, the look Kaihan gave her, the one just before he punched Stanno! He almost looked as though he wasn't sure which one of them to hit. He could tell right away that she was the one who had told Stanno about his secret that wasn't really a secret. She had, after all, promised that no one would hear it from her. Well, if he was disappointed in her, she was sure disappointed in him.

And then there was Stanno. He had worked so hard to redeem himself for her sake. It was clear that it was not something that came to him naturally, but he got better at it as the days went by. He opened up to her, showing that he had a tenderness wanting so hard to come out. But all it took was the right sort of provocation and he caved in. All that hard work for nothing. The man was a liability to himself and it was a good thing she was leaving now before she fell too far for him.

The rain sounded like it had lessened, down to a just faint tinkling. On top of everything else, she wasn't looking forward to driving to the train station in an open car in the rain. She didn't think she could face Stanno just to ask him for a ride in his truck. She didn't think she could even face him to say good-bye. Well, maybe she could convince herself that it was doomed to begin with and even if she had lost her head for a while, she hadn't actually lost her heart.

Yeah. Right.

She flipped herself onto her stomach and buried her face into her pillow. She didn't know what to do. She wanted to go and put this all behind her, but she also wanted so badly to stay. With her face still buried, she let out a scream of frustration into her pillow. It felt good for a moment. While she lay there, she could hear what seemed like an echoes of her scream. Somewhere outside, down the street or maybe even the next street over, she thought she heard not one, but several faint cries. She lay very still and listened. They weren't cries of fear or sorrow or anger. They sounded excited. She wondered in disbelief if the festival hadn't actually stopped and people were still partying in the street.

Then there was a sharp crack against the wooden shutters at her window. She raised herself up on her elbows and frowned toward the window, debating whether or not to open it. Had it started to hail? No, it was a single report, as if someone had—

_Crack!_

Rose gave a start. As if someone had thrown a rock.

"Rose!"

She stared harder at the window. Aside from what she was hearing, she couldn't believe what she could see through the curls and swirls of the carved design.

"_Rose_!"

She threw back her covers and without bothering with slippers or robe, she hurried to the window, opened the glass panes and pushed the shutters open.

8888

_Miserable, damn kids! What the hell are they screaming about? The damn festival is over!_

Stanno ran his hand over his face and glared up at his ceiling. Was it worth getting up and yelling out the window to tell everyone to shut the hell up and leave him in peace? That was exactly what he was in the mood for, to be as caustic and bitter as he could possibly be, to unleash such a stream of profanity that the very air would turn blue. Sure. Why not? It's what people would expect him to do.

He kicked off his blankets and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Trudging over to the window, he gave the shutters a rough push, making them slam against the outer walls.

Then he froze. He stared.

The air was white with the swirl of snowflakes. He completely forgot about all the noise that could be heard coming from what seemed like every corner of Ishval, the shrieks of delight and cries of amazement. He leaned out the window, holding out his hand to let the flakes fall into it. Drawing his arm back, he stared as the flakes slowly melted in his palm. Gazing back out into the brilliant shower of white, a smile grew on his face and he laughed to himself. Then he laughed a little harder.

Maybe Ishvala didn't make the world stand still, but this was good enough.

Without bothering to close his shutters, he quickly pulled on a shirt and grabbed his boots, practically stumbling into them as he rushed downstairs. Flinging his back door open, he ran out through the gate, down the side of his house and out into the street. He looked up and down as his neighbors came out of their houses and stared up at the sky and at each other. Then he made a quick inspection of the ground. The snow was melting as soon as it landed, so it was easy enough to fine a small rock. Probably one of the ones Atash kept using. Snatching it up, he trotted over to the front of the Desert Dove and positioned himself under the window of Rose's room. Taking aim, he pulled his arm back and flung the rock into the air. It hit the shutters dead on, making a satisfying crack. He had absolutely no concern about damaging his own handiwork or property. Actually, it was kind of fun. He glanced quickly around his feet for another rock and, finding one, he took aim and let fly.

There was no way she couldn't hear that, but just in case, he cupped his hands around his mouth. "Rose!" he yelled.

For all he knew, she might still be asleep. He waited for a moment and called again. "_Rose!_"

He was about start looking for another rock when the shutters opened and Rose's head appeared in the window. She stared at the swirling flakes for a moment. Stanno desperately wished he could whistle. He waved his arms wildly and Rose looked down.

"Rose, you come down here right now!"

She stared at him for a moment, then up at the sky, then back down at him. As an afterthought, she wrapped her arms around herself against the cold. "It's…"

She stopped as though afraid to say something so feebly obvious. It didn't bother him.

"It's snowing!" he cried, laughing. He waved at her again. "Come down! I have to talk to you!"

The snow was actually getting thicker and Rose had to shade her eyes and peer through it to see him. The breath of exasperation she let out formed a little foggy cloud that dissipated in the snowfall. "Why should I?"

Stanno smiled. Maybe she thought she sounded dismissive, but he thought she just wanted convincing. He spread out his arms. "Because I love you!" he cried, his voice echoing off the building.

Her mouth dropped open a little. Was she really that surprised? Well, maybe so. He'd only just managed to tell what he should have told her already. If he had, he wouldn't have to be standing out in the snow yelling it up to her. So it was no wonder that she wasn't rushing out.

"I'm a fool, Rose," he went on, "and I don't deserve you! But you're so sweet and so kind that you'll take pity even on a poor fool like me and at least come down and hear me out!"

She gazed down at him for a few moments in something like wonder. Was she wondering how he could be such an idiot? Then she suddenly disappeared. With a start, Stanno nearly called out to her. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Maybe she thought he was crazy and was better off without him. He was debating whether to rush inside or just give up when the front door of the hotel opened and Rose came running out, wrapped in her bathrobe and slippers on her feet. Not really very sensible for snow, but at least they both realized that sensibleness wasn't so important at the moment.

He ran up to her and swung her into his arms, dancing around in a circle and laughing. "I knew it, Rose Thomas! I knew it!" he cried. "If you didn't love me back, you wouldn't have come running out into the snow in your nightgown!"

"You're crazy!" Rose cried, trying to sound indignant but unable to keep from laughing. One of her slippers flipped off her foot. "Oh, _now_ look!"

"Here!" Stanno lowered her carefully. "Stand on top of my boots!" He held her closely, letting her weight rest on his feet. "Now, admit it! You love me, don't you!"

Rose tucked her head under his chin. "Awfully sure of yourself, aren't you?"

Stanno pressed his cheek against her hair and closed his eyes. Yes, he was sure, out of faith rather than arrogance. He still needed to work at it, but he'd devote a lifetime to it. "God knows I'm not perfect," he said. "But you're the first person I've ever wanted to be perfect for!"

She hugged herself to him. "No one said you had to be perfect. Nobody is. I'm sure not."

"You're perfect for me!" Stanno countered. He smiled and tilted her chin up so she could face him. "You've got the measure of me, Rose. I'm a little weathered, a little warped, but in the proper hands and with a little tender care, I could finish up a decent, comfortable piece."

A smile began to pull at the corner of Rose's mouth. "Something I can curl up with on a"—she squinted up into the snow shower—"cold winter morning?"

"I guarantee it!"

She cocked an eyebrow at him. "Something that won't get all bent out of shape for stupid reasons?"

"Ah. Well, that's where the tender care comes in." Stanno held her a little tighter. "And I can promise you plenty of that in return, and more besides."

Rose gave a soft little laugh. "Well, I have to admit, you've got a lot of potential for a fixer-upper."

8888

Christina stood on the seat, leaning on the deep window ledge and gazing out at the falling snow. She pressed a small fingertip against the glass. "That's right, sweetpea," Roy told her. "That isn't a sight you're likely to see again." He lifted the lid of the teapot, which was nearly empty, and he frowned. "Where is that girl? What's her name? Pashmina?"

Riza leaned to get a better look out the window. She pointed. "That's her outside, I think, with her young man."

Roy peered through the snow. "What _are_ they doing out there?"

"Dancing, it looks like." Riza held out a piece of a sesame roll to Christina. "Here, sweetie. Eat up!"

"Dancing in the snow, huh?" Roy chuckled. "Why not? Oh!" He shifted his gaze a little. "Looks like they're not the only couple enjoying the weather."

Riza turned to look where he was pointing. Not that far outside the window, two people stood in a close embrace, sharing a prolonged kiss. She smiled and said, "That ought to make the snow melt pretty quickly."

8888

Grumman slowly cranked the reel of his fishing pole, contemplating his next cast. The drizzle didn't bother him too much. He had almost left his thermal underdrawers at home, thinking that since this was Ishval, he wouldn't need them. But he didn't get to where he had gotten by cutting corners, taking short cuts, or, most of all, ignoring his gut when it came to taking precautions.

Then he frowned and folded up the brim of his fishing hat. No, that wasn't his eyesight going wonky on him. Those white specks were not floaters on his retinae. They were actually falling out of the sky. He stared at them for a few moments, then chuckled, lifting his rod and whisking his hand-tied fly into the air, where it traveled far behind him. Bending his forearm back and forth, loading the rod tip with stored energy, the fly sailed backwards and forwards above his head. When it had traveled to his satisfaction, Grumman made his final cast, letting the fly sail forward and landing with light, insectile grace on the river's surface, making the mouths of hungry trout water with anticipation.

Settling in his hip boots, Grumman glanced back up at the snow and shook his head, chuckling to himself. Ishval was quite a place.

8888

"Of course it's important!" Shua insisted. He stood in the doorway of the hotel, the telephone cradled in one arm and the receiver against his ear. "...well, yes, of course I bother you when you're busy. I'm your husband. It's my job…oh, quit growling! You don't scare me...no, no, wait! Listen! I just had to tell you! You won't bloody believe this, but it's snowing! Here in Ishval! It's _snowing_!"

Shua laughed. "I thought that'd get your attention…yeah, everything's pretty much come to a halt." He leaned out of the door a little to look up and down the street. "There's folks dancing and singing in the streets as if they haven't stopped since last night." He grinned as he watched Stanno and Rose from his vantage point. "It seems to be making folks feel a bit frisky, as well. Ah, love!" He sighed, leaning against the doorframe. "I miss you, Ollie. When can you take a break?...Ah, come now! Just for a couple of days?" He crooned soulfully in Ishvalan into the receiver, "(_I am waiting for you to come to my home, but you won't come, my dear one, my heart!)_"

He listened for a few moments and smiled warmly. "Ah, that's all right, sweetheart. I'll come to you, then…as soon as I can, I promise." He chuckled. "I'll melt right through that wall of yours! See if I don't!"

8888

This was wonderful.

He didn't know how long it could possibly last, but he would stand here until the very last snowflake fell. Miles stood in his shirtsleeves out in the middle of the compound, tilting his head toward the sky and letting the tiny needles of cold land on his face. He hadn't realized just how much he had missed this. It didn't exactly transport him back to the sweeping white grandeur of the Briggs mountain range, but it was a nice little reminder.

He was aware of cries of astonishment as the men poured out of their bunkers, the mess hall, the offices, or wherever they happened to be. He then became aware of footsteps coming up beside him. Command Sergeant Major Benjamin stopped at his side and looked skeptically up at the sky.

"Crazy, huh, sir?"

"Bat shit crazy, Sergeant," Miles agreed contentedly.

Benji gave him a dubious glance. He didn't like the cold. As much deep and abiding respect he felt for his colonel, he couldn't imagine why anyone would have any sort of affection for a place like Briggs. He frowned glumly.

"How long you figure this'll keep up?"

"Not long enough," Miles sighed.

"Huh." Benji pulled his coat a little tighter around him. "'Cause, you know, we're not exactly equipped for this. I mean, we don't have any snow gear."

Miles turned to give his adjutant a glare colder and more forbidding that the depths of a Briggs winter. "Snow gear?"

Benji stirred uncomfortably. "Uh…yes."

"Snow gear?"

"Well…'cause of…you know…" Benji pointed up. "Even some of the men were saying—"

"_Snow gear_?" Miles roared.

Benji jumped and snapped a salute. "My apologies, sir! Forget I mention it!" He did a quick about face and marched away.

Miles shook his head and turned his face skyward again, watching the flakes swarm down and gently envelope him. "Snow gear!" he muttered in disgust.

8888

He'd had about as much snow as he could take in his journeys to the north. It was not a source of wonder or joy. The cold would get into his bones and crush his spirit, but he had no choice.

This, of course, was no comparison. The older children were running around the cul-de-sac, and Rada efforts to get them to put on their coats were futile. He was content to stand in the doorway, holding Turyan. The little boy seemed to be very cautious about what was going on, and he pointed randomly at the flakes as they fell. Scar took Turyan's hand and turned it so it was facing palm up. A few flakes fell on it, and Turyan giggled and curled his fingers over them. When he opened them again, the snowflakes were gone. Puzzled but undaunted, he held his hand out again. This time he let out a shriek of delighted laughter.

Scar laughed quietly to himself. Maybe snow did bring a little joy.

8888

A couple of the novices were trying to scrape up sufficient snow to make big enough snowballs to throw at each other. It seemed to be accumulating better on the temple steps than on the ground. _Saahad _Imir stood on the top step, shading his eyes with his hand and contemplating the sky. He turned as Bozidar joined him at his side. The chief priest didn't mind the snowflakes falling on his bald head.

Imir grinned at him and nodded toward the novices. They were supposed to be sweeping the inside of the temple. "Should I get them back to work, _Saahad?_"

Bozidar shook his head and waved his hand. "No, no. Let them enjoy this while they can. Who knows when it may ever happen again?"

Imir peered back up. "I was just a little lad the last time this happened. I thought the world was coming to an end, but then my mother started laughing." He turned back to his superior. "It's not exactly what you'd call a miracle, is it?"

"Well, probably not," Bozidar replied, smiling down at his young students as they were joined by others youths in a snowball fight. "Perhaps just a gentle reminder that the unlikely can happen."


	18. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Danika strolled through the marketplace, a basket over one arm. Her other arm swung easily at her side. She had recently turned ten and she was feeling very mature and accomplished. Her mother had given her a list of items to buy and she had gotten everything. She was now starting to make her way home, her mission accomplished.

A small figure darted in front of her, then stopped. A little boy, just barely two, as Danika recalled, looked up at her then at her basket with curiosity.

"Patrick!" Danika greeted him. She took a quick look around, but the toddler appeared to be unaccompanied. She knew that he was in no great danger, but that wasn't the point. She turned back to the little boy. "Where's your mama?"

Patrick blinked up at her for a moment then turned his attention back to the basket. Quickly sizing up the situation—being the older sibling of a mischievous little brother—Danika set the basket on the ground and reached into one of the bundles. "Would you like an apricot?"

Patrick nodded enthusiastically and held out his hand.

"Say please," Danika reminded him gently.

Patrick thought for a moment, then said, "Peeeez!"

Fairly impressed, Danika took an apricot from one of the bundles. Mindful of what ought and ought not to be given to a toddler, she split the soft flesh of the apricot apart and pulled out the pit, dropping it into the basket. Ideally, she would have washed it first, but desperate times called for desperate measures. She then handed one of the halves to Patrick, who snatched it from her. He was just about to shove the whole thing into his mouth when Danika spoke up quickly.

"No, no! Not like that!"

Patrick looked at her, a little resentfully. Danika smiled at him and said, "Just take a bite, like this." She bit into the other half of the apricot and tore off a small piece. "See?" she said around her mouthful.

Patrick contemplated the apricot in his hand doubtfully, but he gave it a try and bit into his half.

"That's right!" Danika exclaimed.

The little boy grinned at her, juice running down his chin.

"Now," Danika announced, picking up her basket. "Let's go find your mama." She held out her hand and spoke one of the many mantras her parents used. "Give me your hand."

Content for the moment, Patrick took Danika's hand and she held onto it firmly. After a moment of consideration, it occurred to her that it was probably not the boy's mother that she should be looking for because she probably wouldn't have let him get away. With a vaguely uncomfortable twist in her stomach, she started looking for Patrick's father.

It didn't take long. From the time it took to walk from the fruit seller to _Zhaarana_ Nenya's, she caught sight of him up ahead, weaving and bobbing through the marketplace crowd in a frantic search. He actually looked a little scared. Danika couldn't quite bring herself to feel sorry for him, but she couldn't quite feel irritated, either. With her basket in one hand and Patrick in the other, she couldn't wave.

"_Zhaarad _Stanno!" she called out.

It was almost funny the way his head whipped around from side to side. Danika sighed. She wasn't very tall and he was looking too high. "Down here!"

After another moment of fruitless searching, _Zhaarad_ Stanno's eyes finally fell on her, then on Patrick. He slumped with relief and jogged over to them.

Patrick let out an excited shriek and made to dart away again, enjoying his game, but Danika kept a firm hold on his hand. She didn't let go until _Zhaarad _Stanno scooped Patrick up in his arms.

"There you are, you little devil!" the carpenter exclaimed, kissing the boy on the cheek. Patrick giggled and struggled, but Stanno held him tightly. He looked down at Danika.

"Thank you!" he said breathlessly. "Thank you so much! Rose would've killed me!"

Now, that was a gross exaggeration and Danika took exception to it. "No, she wouldn't," she replied firmly but politely. "_Zhaarana _Rose is too nice to do that."

_Zhaarad_ Stanno nodded, a little sheepishly. "No, of course not. I just didn't want to…well..."

He was probably going to say _disappoint her _but Danika generously let it go. "And besides," she added, "if it wasn't me, somebody else would've caught him for you."

_Zhaarad_ Stanno considered the girl for a moment, as though just realizing who she was. Danika met his regard solemnly. She really had to give the man some credit. Back when they first came to Ishval, he had done and said some very cruel things to Mama and to her. But he had stopped all that. Mama treated him like any of their other friends. Papa didn't growl so much anymore when he talked about him. Danika wasn't sure when she first noticed the difference, but she figured it must have been when _Zhaarana_ Rose, who she liked very much, came to Ishval. She ended up staying especially to marry _Zhaarad _Stanno. Yes, that's when it really started.

"You're a smart little girl, Danika," Stanno told her.

That was a rather nice thing to say, even though Danika didn't consider herself little anymore. She was ten, after all. But she conceded the point. She had been taught to accept compliments graciously but to not let them go to her head. She gave a little shrug. "I like to help people," she replied.

Stanno's mouth quirked in a wry little smile. "Even me?"

That made Danika pause. She had the feeling that those two little words were saying a lot more than just those two little words. What she said back could be very important so she had to think about it very carefully. Really, though, the choice was clear.

She gave him a really nice smile. "Sure!" she replied, as though he didn't even have to ask.

She really liked the smile that he gave her back.

8888

Patrick got treated to a ride on his father's shoulders. He started kicking his feet, which hurt a little, but Stanno didn't mind much. He was feeling strangely elated after his encounter with Danika. Now that he had a child of his own, other children were coming into sharper focus. Their opinions actually mattered now. He certainly hoped that his son would form a good opinion of him.

As much as the house of Dreva was crying out for an heir, Stanno was secretly terrified of the idea, so much so that he finally shared his secret with Rose. She commiserated with him, admitting that she was nervous, too, which made him feel much less isolated. Then she told him that Ishval seemed like a pretty good place to raise kids because the community was so closely knit and there would always be someone to offer help or go to for advice. Stanno had never actually realized that. He thought his fellow Ishvalans were just nosy.

When Patrick came along, it was as if their home was invaded. He wasn't even sure he knew some of these people. Nenya came and bossed everyone around. The woman from the tea shop came and made disgusting goo-goo noises at the baby. Rada came as a blessed relief. She brought all kinds of things she knew they would need and gave the most sensible advice. Best of all, she managed to get rid of all the other nosy, overly-curious women, and she managed to do it without offending anyone.

While Rada sat with Rose and the baby, Stanno trudged downstairs for a much needed drink, but realized that there was nothing to be had, not even a bottle of beer. He was about to just sit at the table for a brief sulk, when there was yet another knock at the door. Stanno buried his face in his hands. One more meddlesome, prying old woman…

But it was male voices he heard. Curious, he got up and opened the back door. Standing there were Andakar, Dejan, and Miles, and they had brought a bottle of _halmi. _Never in his life had he ever been so glad to see these men. They came in and raised a glass to Ishval's newest father. Even Miles made no sarcastic comments. He led them upstairs to see his brand new son, and they were all gratifyingly impressed. Of course they wanted to hold him. They started sharing stories of their own children. Then they started giving advice. They were nearly as bad as the women. But then Rose caught his eye with an amused smile, which he couldn't help but return.

It was then that it finally struck him. He had lived most of his life in Ishval but never really felt a part of it. Until now.

Now his little son and heir was a terrible two-year-old, and Stanno adored him. As much as he loved everything about Rose, from her creamy ivory skin to her luminous violet eyes to the pink locks of her hair, he was relieved that his firstborn son, the long-awaited heir to the noble house of Dreva, had pure Ishvalan features. He was happy enough to make other concessions, letting Rose decide on their son's name. It took a little getting used to at first, but he managed.

He was so very proud of his little boy, something he knew he had to be careful of. His father had been proud of him, too. He was proud of his son's talent, which exceeded his own and which he viewed as an extension of himself. His was a pride of possession, of acquisition. These were the values he had instilled in his son, and the last thing Stanno wanted to do was pass that on. He would teach Patrick their craft, from acorn to table, and he would watch him make beautiful things, and he would be proud, but not on his own account.

But sweet Ishvala, the boy was an imp! He would dart away at any opportunity, and those little legs of his could move pretty fast! To Patrick, it was just a game. To Stanno, it was the stuff of nightmares. He literally had bad dreams of Patrick running off and they would never find him. Rada assured him that Mattas was much the same way, and was finally starting to grow out of it. She then admitted that he was now obsessed with tree climbing and she joked that she expected any day to have to take him to Dr. Marcoh with a broken arm. Stanno didn't think that was anything to joke about.

But for now, Patrick was safely perched on his shoulder. When they got back to the hotel, Stanno ducked as he went through the front door so Patrick wouldn't bump his head. Yaza, one of the new girls, came bustling in from the kitchen, heading for the dining room with a tray of tea and honey pastries. Laughter came from the dining room. Their current guests were the Shua's in-laws, the Armstrongs. They also had a few of university professors who had come to scout the site of Old Ishval with an eye to digging it up. The place was actually starting to turn a profit.

Stanno nearly collided with Yasira, the other girl, who was carrying a bundle of bed linens.

"'Scuse me, _Zhaarad_!" she sang out as she swerved around him.

Stanno sighed. They were smart, efficient girls, but he missed Pashmina, who was getting ready to have a baby. He would have to finish up the cradle he was making for her and Atash and get it over to Nenya's.

He made his way behind the front desk and into the office. Atash no longer slept there, having moved in with Pashmina's family when they got married, and Rose had fixed it up and kept it neatly organized. At the moment, she was finishing up the account books for the end of the month. Stanno had taken Patrick to the marketplace so Rose could work in peace. She looked up and smiled at them as they came in.

"There are my boys!" she said, swiveling the office chair around and holding out her arms.

Stanno lifted Patrick off his shoulders and deposited him into his mother's lap. Then he bent down and gave her a kiss. He nodded toward the ledgers. "How's it going?"

"Just fine!" Rose replied. "I'm just about finished. How about you? Any adventures?" she asked archly.

"Well, yes," Stanno admitted, pulling up a stool to sit beside her. "He got away from me once, but Danika managed to snag him."

"Oh, that was nice!"

"Yes it was," Stanno said with a nod and a smile. "She's a nice kid."

Rose tilted her head a little. "Did you tell her that?"

"Pretty much. I told her she was smart. And yes," he added, "I did say thank you."

Rose patted his cheek. "That's my boy!"

Stanno grabbed her hand and planted a kiss on her palm. "Let's go over to the Jasmine for dinner!"

Rose sighed wistfully. The restaurant had become a sentimental favorite of theirs. "Oh, I don't know. The last time we took Patrick was kind of a…an incident."

"Then we'll drop him off at Nenya's," Stanno declared. "You know how she likes to fuss over him." He looked at Patrick. "How about it, _lahaat_? Want to go see Auntie Pashmina and _Baata_ Nenya?"

Patrick considered this for a few moments, then said, "Go, Mama!"

Rose laughed. "Okay, but just for a little bit." To Stanno, she said, "You might want to move back a little."

She held on tightly to her little boy and gave a push with her feet, spinning the chair around. Patrick let out a peal of laughter. While they were occupied with this, Atash tapped on the doorframe to announce his arrival. When Patrick caught sight of him, he let out a cry.

"'Top, Mama! 'Top!"

Rose stilled the chair and let Patrick slide off her lap so he could run to Atash. The young man swung the little boy into the air.

"There's our little devil!" he cried. "Up to no good, are you?"

"Atash, would Nenya mind watching him tonight?" Stanno asked.

Atash looked from him to Rose and chuckled. "Looking for a bit of time to yourselves, are you?"

"As a matter of fact, yes," Stanno replied, a little tersely. "That's something you and Pashmina will come to miss quite soon."

"I know, I know!" Atash held onto Patrick tightly as the little boy seemed intent to slide down his back head first. "That's what Auntie Nenya's for! Sure, she and Pashmina'll watch this one. And good luck to them. Come on, Patrick! Come and help me water the garden!"

Atash swung around with a giggling Patrick hanging off his shoulder and left the office. Stanno turned back to Rose and, with a smile and tilt of his head, beckoned her closer. Smiling back, she got up and sat in his lap. Holding her tightly, he kissed her for several long, blissful, uninterrupted moments.

"So, the Jasmine it is, then?" Stanno said as their lips finally parted.

"That sounds wonderful!" Rose sighed. She dimpled. "We can celebrate!"

Stanno looked at her curiously for a moment. Then the light dawned and he gave a start and looked down at Rose's stomach. Looking back at her, he placed his hand gently on her belly. "You went to see Marcoh today!" he recalled.

Rose nodded. "Mm-hmm! I'm already a couple of months along."

The last time she told him that, he was terrified. But the things he had feared never happened, replaced by worries he never considered. But he had overcome them. Was he not of the noble house of Dreva? Was he not a master of his craft? Did he not have the loveliest girl in Ishval for his bride? Stanno laughed and held her tightly. "Ah, my Rosie-_laleh_! I hope it's a girl and I hope she has your hair!"


End file.
